Shadows
by Locathah
Summary: A scream carried on the night air and a pool of blood are all that remain when both killer and victim vanish in an instant. ClarkChloe
1. Prologue

R for language/violence (mostly language… could probably fit in as a hard pg-13 but better to play it safe). Events take place post "Crush", and for those who want such things rated it can be firmly considered Chloe/Clark but it's NOT a sap-fic. Romance isn't the primary focus ;)  
  
No I don't own the characters yada yada yada… however I DID write it so if you want to re-post it, email me and ask.  
  
As to a classification… umm… I'm not sure. Probably adventure/romance with priority on the first? Who knows… I'll see where it ends up. (Assuming I make it to the end that is.)  
  
sorrow_afterlife@sympatico.ca  
  
  
  
Shadows: Prologue  
  
It was the unpleasant squeal from the bus's engines that startled him awake. Slowly climbing out of shadow filled dreams he groggily noted the quiet murmur of conversation issuing from the other passengers. The driver was pulling over to the side of the highway, slowly letting the mammoth vehicle roll to a halt.  
  
This couldn't be good.  
  
Gabriel scowled as he registered the bright sun glaring at him even through the tinted windows. He turned his back to it in a futile effort to protect himself, he hated the way it made him feel. Trapped, restrained, vulnerable, all combining to form an unpleasant lump in his stomach that he did his best to keep down. Meanwhile the steam rising at the front of the bus and the perplexed look on the driver's mulish face told him that they probably wouldn't be making it to Metropolis that night. He found that almost as annoying as the sunlight.  
  
As far as he could tell they were smack dab in the middle of nowhere on an apparently empty highway. On either side of the road extended what looked like fields of wheat as far as the eye could see, though having never spent any time in the country he wasn't even sure of that. Was that really what wheat looked like? Farm country. Maybe not quite the middle of nowhere, but close enough.  
  
He withdrew a dark pair of sunglasses from his trench coat and briefly debated whether or not to kill the bus driver. It was childish of course, but the toad obviously couldn't even keep a damned bus running. He would just walk up to him and tap him on the shoulder as if he had a question about the damage, and when the perplexed fool turned to answer he would simply rip his throat out…  
  
Gabriel was already rising from his seat before common sense pointed out the thirty or forty inconvenient witnesses in the form of other passengers. He then briefly considered killing them to. It was all a very bad sign and he had to be careful, always careful. Sitting back in his seat and pulling his collar up he tried to stay calm, forget about the disgustingly bright sun, and wait to see what happened next.  
  
The driver climbed back into the bus and waved his hands in the air to get everyone's attention. "Alright folks, sorry to say it but it looks like we won't be making it to Metropolis tonight." A collective groan seemed to issue from the passengers punctuated by the occasional curse or loudly uttered complaint. Gabriel just grimaced and contained himself while the bus driver continued. "I've already radioed in about the problem and we're going to get towed into Smallville. Either the bus will get fixed by tomorrow morning or you can take the Monday afternoon bus from Smallville to Metropolis. Either way your hotel bill for the night will of course be taken care of."  
  
The last concession helped to quiet the passengers, obviously appreciative enough of anything that resembled "free" or "gift" to forget the accompanying inconvenience. A brainwashed rabble. Gabriel on the other hand just scowled and hunched even farther into his seat.  
  
"Smallville… just fucking great." 


	2. Chapter 1a

Shadows : Chapter 1a  
  
Clark sat quietly, watching the sky slip across the barrier between dawn and dusk. He was at the Beanery, which felt a bit like a betrayal but he'd wanted a chance to think without interruptions, and these days the Beanery was sparsely populated at best. He couldn't help but smile at the irony while still feeling a bit sorry for the store's owner.  
  
He was fairly sure Lana was working, but he hadn't actually talked to her in several days so he couldn't be sure. Lex was in Metropolis for the weekend. Pete had mentioned something about homework, which seemed kind of odd for a Sunday afternoon. And Chloe…  
  
Chloe was the reason he was sitting alone at the Beanery watching the sun go down.  
  
In the past week he'd seen allot more of Chloe than in the previous several months combined. Nothing serious just… hanging out… getting comfortable with each other in a new context. And it was good, he just needed to take a little time to himself and digest the implications. Someplace neither his friends nor his parents would look to find him.  
  
Poor Beanery, how the mighty have fallen.  
  
The sun had somehow slipped away, gone except for a slight glow on the horizon. Darkness had fallen over Smallville, but the exact moment of its arrival remained unfathomed. His coffee seemed to have managed a similar transition from full to empty and Clark turned to try and catch the waitress's eye.  
  
A piercing scream sounded out in the distance, almost entirely muffled by the glass windows of the coffee shop.  
  
It took him ten seconds to exit quickly but inconspicuously from the shop, none of the other patrons had apparently been able to hear the sound. It only took him about two seconds to travel the six blocks between the Beanery and the source. Not that he was counting.  
  
The scream had come from a small hotel, one of the few in Smallville bigger than a bed and breakfast. Oddly out of place was the large coach bus parked conspicuously beside it, alone managing to take up almost a quarter of the parking lot. There was no sign of a disturbance, and no sound except for the imagined echo still reverberating inside his head.  
  
Clark focussed… looking deeper….  
  
The hotel owner was sitting at the front desk reading something, Clark couldn't tell what, it looked like it might be a magazine. Almost every room was occupied, some watching T.V… some sleeping… some doing things he felt dirty for spying on. No one inside looked hurt. With a puzzled frown he turned his gaze towards the bus.  
  
There was someone in the bus. Two someones; one standing tensely and the other lying on the ground in a crumpled heap. A half-second, at most, put him in front of its doors, which he then harshly pried open. He lunged inside to confront the occupants only to find it vacant. There was no one there.  
  
What the hell?  
  
Clark slowly walked up the isle, his nerves tightly wound and his thought slightly jumbled. He knew what he'd seen, someone had to be in the bus. But they weren't.  
  
It was the slick feeling of something wet under his shoe that brought him to a halt. He squinted as he tried to make out the color. It was red, a dark red that almost didn't show up in the darkness. The seats and floor in the tenth row were completely covered in blood.  
  
  
  
  
  
When the police came they were, at first, skeptical. A scream only Clark had heard, and an unknown assailant and victim he couldn't even mention, these are not the things required to inspire confidence in authorities. The blood however, the blood they found very interesting, that and the fact that a room check revealed the conspicuous absence of the bus's driver. That was about the extent of the investigation he was allowed to overhear before his father picked him up.  
  
On the ride home Clark provided his father with the details of what had happened, including the parts he'd had to leave out when talking to the police. His father's first response had been something along the lines of "Damn, just what we needed in Smallville. Another mystery."  
  
Clark was inclined to agree with him.  
  
The next morning at school he told Chloe and Pete the shortened version though, and Chloe had the exact opposite reaction.  
  
"Mmm… and Smallville finally gets its very own murder mystery. A scream in the night, an unexplained pool of blood, you could write a book with this kind of material Clark." She grinned up at him and he couldn't help but grin back. No one could ever deny that she was enthusiastic.  
  
"I don't know, personally I think we've already had our share of psychopaths." Pete chimed in.  
  
"I've got to go with Pete on this one Chloe. Last night was weird. Why would someone kill a bus driver?"  
  
"Maybe they thought his fares were too high." Chloe was in an exceptionally good mood that morning, as far as she was concerned the past week and a half had been bliss. Clarks frown only deepened though, whatever he'd seen the night before had obviously disturbed him. "Why are you so sure the bus driver is dead anyway? Maybe he was out having dinner and turned up this morning to ask what all the fuss was about." Given recent track records she found herself inclined to believe the worst, but maybe it would make Clark feel better.  
  
"Someone died in that bus." Clark stated it as fact without thinking, he knew what he'd seen, even if they didn't. Noticing their appropriately quizzical faces he tried to justify the statement. "There was too much blood." It was true enough, there had been allot of blood. Pete just frowned while Chloe put on her pensive look.  
  
"Maybe I'll poke around, see what I can…" Clark didn't even let her finish.  
  
"No!" He didn't quite shout it, almost but not quite.  
  
"Chill Clark, we're standing right here, not down the hall." Pete wondered what was up with Clark. He was fairly sure that going overprotective on Chloe wouldn't do anything but encourage her. Apparently Clark was either more freaked out than he appeared, or didn't realize the wasps nest he was about to stir up.  
  
"I'm just going to talk to the hotel manager… find out what I can about the driver and the passengers…" She couldn't decide if she liked Clark's reaction cause it showed he cared, or if it annoyed her because it was about to become overbearing and pompous. A quick mental vote and she settled on the second option for the time being with the first saved as a pick me up for later.  
  
"Chloe, let's just leave this one to the police. I don't know what happened last night but…" In truth his sudden paranoia didn't quite make sense to himself either. But it was there regardless. " Let's just leave this one alone." Chloe was wearing her committed face, not a good sign. Pete had obviously decided he wanted to stay well out of the middle and was now standing several feet back from the confrontation. Sensing defeat Clark decided to go for the lesser victory instead. "Will you at least wait until we can check it out together?"  
  
That was a particular item Chloe decided she'd be more than happy to concede, and she let Clark know as much with a wide smile. "Meet me at the torch after school. And don't be late, if you aren't there Clark I'll…"  
  
"Don't worry, I'll be there. Look, I've got to get to class, I'll talk to you two later ok?" The last was addressed to Pete as well, who'd obviously decided that maintaining a safe distance was no longer required.  
  
The two watched as Clark departed towards the perils of math class, trying to put on something that resembled a cheerful face and though he didn't know it, failing miserably.  
  
"Whatever he saw last night really freaked him out Chloe." Even though Pete knew better than to try Clark's frontal approach to persuasion he figured Clark had the right idea. Unexplained pools of blood certainly didn't make HIM want to start asking invasive questions.  
  
"It does seem a bit much for a scream and some blood doesn't it. I mean, blood, screaming, bad, but we get worse on an almost weekly basis."  
  
A bell rang loudly through the school, and soon thereafter the halls were empty. 


	3. Chapter 1b

Shadows : Chapter 1b  
  
  
  
He wondered who'd named it Smallville. It was a name completely opposed to the kind of growth most towns craved. New factories, new stores, new homes, the entire process considered desirable across America had been stressed as unwanted, all with the choice of a name. It seemed reasonably suitable, though maybe Moderately-Sizedville would have been even more appropriate as, so far, the place seemed larger than he'd expected. Either way Smallville was a complete waste of time; it might make a half-decent tourist spot but it didn't seem a likely location for their quarry.  
  
Ours is not to question why…  
  
Sean let a half smile creep onto his face at the thought. He'd take a look around, phone in that the report had been bogus, and then go investigate a real lead. It was no big deal.  
  
The hotel lot was almost empty with the noticeable exception of a large bus that dominated the area. Sean parked his rental vehicle behind it and turned off the ignition.  
  
He'd be out of there in a half hour, twenty minutes at most.  
  
Moving from the sterile environment of the air-conditioned car to the rural exterior hit him like a ton of bricks. It was… fresh. No better word explained the subtle nuances that seemed to be missing from the breeze. Sean shook his head and slammed the car door. Something just didn't seem right about a place without smog.  
  
Half way to the hotel a flash of yellow caught his attention and after a brief debate he shifted his path to intersect with the bus doors instead. Two pieces of crime scene tape crisscrossed over the entrance practically shouting out "do not enter." Sean simply reached up and pealed it back from the right hand side, he was fairly sure the warning wasn't meant for him. Bracing himself he wedged his fingers between the two door flaps and pulled, straining a little before they decided to give way and allow entrance.  
  
Rancid. The new scent came wafting out and he found himself coughing in reflex. God what a disgusting smell. Stepping gingerly inside he kept one arm in front of his face; he knew it wouldn't really help but he let himself pretend anyway. From the top of the steps it became immediately evident what was causing the stench. Easy to see in the sunlight, a dark black layer of congealed blood covered an entire row like a mold. Walking forward he tried to bury his disgust.  
  
What the hell was with the local police? There's a point at which you finish with a crime scene and clean it the hell up. Of course it didn't hurt for him to see it with his own eyes, but it's not like they'd known he was coming.  
  
The click of a hammer being cocked behind him punctuated the last thought.  
  
"Put your hands up, slowly." An older voice, not a trigger-happy rookie at least, they were always dangerous. Sean slowly raised his hands and turned around.  
  
"Front left inside pocket officer, I'm a federal agent." He said it quietly and calmly, not in a hurry to piss of a person pointing a gun at him. The police officer just scowled.  
  
"Federal agent my ass. Get on the ground, put your hands on your head, then we'll see if you've really got a badge or not." His gun never wavered.  
  
Sean took a long glance at the congealed blood covering most of the floor near where he'd stopped, turning to look back at the officer he raised an eyebrow. "Maybe you could just shoot me instead? I think it'd be more humane."  
  
The policeman just blinked, it wasn't the response he'd been expecting. Finally he admitted wryly that yes, it probably would be. Coming to a resolution he stepped forward, keeping the gun pointed at Sean's chest while reaching inside to find the badge. During this operation Sean made sure he didn't move a muscle, at that distance he was fairly certain the policeman would shoot first, ask questions later.  
  
The badge was where Sean had said it would be, and the officer took a good long look before saying anything. "Agent Philips?" Sean simply nodded in reply. Reaching to his belt the officer grabbed a radio and sent out a request for confirmation on the badge number. A minute later the two were outside the bus and Sean was no long at gunpoint.  
  
He liked it better that way.  
  
The conversation was long, loud, and quite angry. Officer Marks wanted to know just what the hell an FBI agent was doing trampling into a local crime scene, Agent Philips told him he was there to check for possible connections between the bus murder and several FBI files. Marks wanted to know what files exactly. Philips politely told him to go to hell. That was right about where it started to get loud.  
  
In the end Sean simply pointed out that if Marks made some phone calls he'd find that he had every ounce of authority necessary to claim federal jurisdiction. Word should be passed that he was in town and that he'd be by the local station to talk with the investigating officers the next morning.  
  
Marks left after fixing the crime scene tape and threatening several times to make the phone calls. Sean wasn't worried, he actually found it amusing. His ass was completely covered.  
  
The venue was wrong, but he had to admit the murder scene felt right. Most of the time there was no evidence left behind at all, but when he did leave a mess behind it usually looked allot like the inside of the bus. Combining that with what he'd read in the report…  
  
Sean sent a silent apology to his superiors and headed towards the hotel. 


	4. Chapter 1c

Notes : Well, combining the minimal response with the last response, I'll probably take the hint and write this experience off as a nice idea left unfinished :). insert subtle attempt at wry sarcasm here Please… forgive me if I profaned the review functionality by responding to MaK's comments, I'm not a local and I didn't realize the natives had taboos =O end of subtle attempt at wry sarcasm Any community time I've spent on the web has always been in forums where lack of acknowledgement is actually fairly impolite. If anyone does want me to continue then please, drop a comment, if not I'll simply post the last portion of the first chapter in it's current state and say goodbye.  
  
Shadows : Chapter 1c (last part of chapter 1)  
  
Chloe kept her voice cheerful and friendly with a healthy dose of inquisitiveness thrown in for spice. Smallville wasn't quite so tiny that everyone knew everyone else, but it was close, and in this case she'd known who she needed to. The owner of the relevant hotel was a friend of her father's and had been more than happy to break up a long and stressful day with a phone call from Gabe's charming daughter.  
  
He'd been very helpful, a true fountain of information. The police had apparently questioned each and every guest in the hotel, and Mr. Finn had overheard them giving out instructions to stay in town. His satisfaction at that had been almost palpable, while the situation was stressful it had also become profitable and he needed the money. The police had also spent a long time checking out the bus but had, apparently, left the crime scene intact. Another interesting point was that one of the officers had rented a room facing the parking lot and Mr. Finn hadn't seen him since.  
  
Bait? Chloe wondered if they really thought the killer would go back to check out his handiwork. She was fairly sure criminals were only that incompetent in movies. Then again it was Smallville; home to lots of meteor rock weirdness but very few conventional mysteries. Movies might be all they had for inspiration.  
  
A knock on the door prompted Chloe to quickly end the conversation. She felt a brief flash of guilt before turning around. Of course she had every right to ask questions, that's what reporters did, but on the other hand she had specifically told Clark that she would wait.  
  
It wasn't Clark who had knocked. That brought both relief and disappointment.  
  
Relief… uh oh, snap out of it Chloe, Clark won't be mad at you just for a phone call. He's a puppy dog, remember? Or maybe a cross between a puppy and a big German shepherd guard dog… No, that image didn't work at all…  
  
"Hi Chloe. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…" Lana Lang stood just inside the door and watched Chloe's attention shift from phone, to internal contemplation, to Lana in only a second. It was actually fairly impressive. "Is now a bad time?"  
  
Chloe blinked. "Um, no, Lana come in. You just caught be by surprise." She paused for a second, took a breath, and started over. "Hi Lana, what can I do for you."  
  
"I was actually looking for Clark, I needed to talk to him about something. I thought he might be here." Lana felt slightly hesitant, after what she'd seen at the Talon she figured that Chloe might be in possessive mode. Lana really couldn't blame her if she was. She'd been fighting off those kinds of feelings herself and she didn't even have a right to them.  
  
Chloe processed the information in a series of discrete steps. Lana needed to talk to Clark. No need for panic, they were friends. She probably just wanted to talk about Whitney and his father. Clark had been spending lots of time with Chloe recently but that was no reason for her to expect him to just abandon Lana completely. Statistically a large percentage of relationships were ruined by clinging tendencies and she didn't want to go there. Right?  
  
Chloe wondered briefly where exactly her brain had dug up that particular 'statistic' but decided that, in the scheme of things, it really didn't matter.  
  
"Um, actually he must not be out of class quite yet. He told me he'd come here right after last period." Chloe congratulated herself, definitely good work. Convincing and without any claws, she could have a relationship and still not succumb to any of the multitude of horrific girlfriend stereotypes. She made a closer assessment of Lana and noticed that she looked a little upset. "Is everything ok?"  
  
The concern was real, even Chloe had to admit that Lana was impossible to dislike. She didn't have a mean bone in her entire body.  
  
"No, I'm fine. But thanks." Lana made an effort to smile, hoping for increased credibility. "Can you tell Clark that I need to talk to him?"  
  
"I'm sure he'll be here any minute if you want to come in and…"  
  
"No, I have to get going. Talon, work, responsibility… If you can tell him to stop by when he has time I'd appreciate it. Thanks Chloe."  
  
And then she was gone.  
  
Chloe silently added 'Lana acting strangely' to her mental list of things to figure out at a later day and time.  
  
Skimming the notes she'd taken while talking to Mr. Finn she began to look for any oddities she might have missed. Police… interviews… hotel guests told to stay in town… could she find a way to get hold of Mr. Finn's guest list? She doubted trying to interview them directly would go over very well.  
  
"Hey Chloe… was that Lana I just saw leaving?" Clark walked in without ceremony and dropped himself into the chair beside Chloe. He then took several seconds to just look at her. She'd been working, he could almost see the thoughts running around inside her head. The pen in her hand look recently chewed on and she had a notebook sitting on the desk in front of her.  
  
And she was flashing him that adorable smile she kept sending his way lately whenever he first saw her, like usual he couldn't help but return it.  
  
Or was the smile really new? Hadn't he seen it before? Recent introspection had convinced Clark that he'd really never spent enough time just looking at her. It was easy to get used to someone, to see what you expected to see simply because it was what you had always seen. But then you started to miss anything that was new. He'd made a resolution to put actual effort into looking instead of remembering, not just with Chloe but with everyone.  
  
Maybe he could convince her to drop the previous night's mystery in exchange for some simple rest and relaxation combined with one of his Mom's highly prestigious home cooked dinner's.  
  
"Yah, that was Lana, she wants you to stop by the Talon when you get the chance. She has something she needs to talk to you about." Chloe didn't give him a chance to ask anything else; even she had limits. "So, ready to go dig up the truth about Smallville's latest unusual happenings?"  
  
Guess not.  
  
Clark looked pointedly at the pen in Chloe's hand and the notepad on the desk, then looked back in time to catch the briefest flash of defensiveness pass over her features.  
  
"I just called Mr. Finn to get a head start Clark…"  
  
"It's ok Chloe. What did he say?" He could be paranoid or he could make every effort to enjoy the evening's upcoming sleuthing. Chloe was obviously already getting right into it and despite his wariness he had to admit he wanted answers too. It was a surprisingly easy decision.  
  
Guilt eliminated, Chloe began enthusiastically relating every detail she'd plucked from Mr. Finn's memory.  
  
A short time later, deep in conversation, the pair left the Torch office and set out to solve a mystery. 


	5. Chapter 2a

Since everyone asked so nicely, here's the first part of chapter 2 :) Thanks for the comments! Feedback is always appreciated. I should probably go over this a couple more times before posting it but what the hell…  
  
  
  
Shadows : Chapter 2a  
  
  
  
The sun began its slow descent towards the horizon while life in Smallville continued. Lana Lang oversaw business at the Talon, occasionally glancing at the door in hopes of seeing dark hair and a pair of blue eyes… Martha and Jonathon Kent enjoyed a quiet romantic dinner, taking advantage of their son's absence… Pete Ross sat on his couch watching a basketball game he'd taped the previous evening.  
  
There were a few who noted the coming darkness with unusual expectation. Sean Philips sought out his hotel room and turned on all the lights, resisting the urge to barricade himself in as he began running a computer trace on the hotel guest list he'd procured from Mr. Finn… Clark Kent and Chloe Sullivan returned to the brightly-lit office of the Torch to continue their search in safer surroundings. Others simply felt an unexplained chill on the air and decided to stay home, forgoing previous plans without really knowing why.  
  
Night fell over Smallville, bathing it in shadows and twilight.  
  
  
  
  
  
Stacy removed her glasses, taking a brief moment to find a place for them on her always-cluttered desk. The document on her computer monitor became a blur of white lines and she closed her eyes for a moment to block out the sight. Sitting back she tried to relax the tension in her neck and arms but was instead reminded that the Smallville savings and loan continually refused to furnish their employees with anything but the cheapest of desk chairs, sufficient for typing but useless for lounging.  
  
The clock on her desk shouted with bright red blurry numbers that it was late, and that she should have long since left for home. She'd always hated deadlines: they were stressful, aggravating, and interfered unfairly with her sleep. For some reason she'd assumed working in a bank would never require anything more from her than an eight hour day dealing with friendly customers and large amounts of money. It was a myth she'd dispelled long since.  
  
Stacy stood up and allowed herself a long stretch before grabbing her coat. Sam had phoned her twice, the first call to see when she'd be home and the second to make sure she was safe when that time had long since passed. The memory brought a smile to her face; he was always so worried about her. She regretted many things, leading that list was her choice of vocation, but she had never regretted him.  
  
Several minutes later found Stacy locking the glass door to the bank's now dark interior. Her car was on the far side of the parking lot, a blue station wagon that she only half owned with the other half the property of her very own bank. Fast food workers were served burgers at half price, her friend at Sears always talked about how they practically gave away clothes to employees, so why was it that bank officers didn't get loans with the interest rate cut in half?  
  
Looking around she made sure the dimly lit parking lot was empty before heading across. Smallville was normally a safe place to live, but it was prudent. Stacy was nothing if not prudent. She was half way to her car, fumbling in her pocket for the keys, when a hand reached around her from behind.  
  
Blood, the faintest sent of it seemed to fill her nostrils as a hand covered her mouth. She tried to scream and he just pulled her back against his chest, fingers pressing into her jaw hard enough to bruise. First she felt disbelief, then panic as his other hand came from beneath to caress her throat, then she began flailing madly in an attempt to get free. Tears streamed down her face when she realized she couldn't make him let go. He wouldn't give so much as an inch, it was like fighting with solid stone.  
  
Then she felt pain, he'd ripped something away. The collar of her shirt maybe, Stacy wasn't sure. She tried to inhale but breathed in a thick sticky liquid instead of air; she tried to cough but it was too much work.  
  
As blood poured down her chest Stacy Valentine took one last look at the world, now so dim that the only thing she could make out was the bright moon hanging above her in the sky. She should call Sam and tell him she wouldn't be home. He'd worry, she'd always teased him about how overly protective he was of his young wife.  
  
Then her eyes closed, and never opened again.  
  
  
  
Gabriel let the body fall to the ground and stood, watching as the blood formed a pool around his feet. Licking his hand he savored the thick sweet taste she'd left behind. He'd needed that, needed it so badly that nothing else mattered; not the police and not the wretched little town in which he been so cruelly trapped.  
  
Allowing himself only a few more moments to relish her sent, Gabriel began the familiar work required to hide what he had done. By the time he was finished, there was no trace of him, the blood, or of Stacy Valentine to be found. 


	6. Chapter 2b

Yes, time for another Chloe Clark section :P Sorry I'm posting it in chunks like this but it's the way I find myself writing it. I expect there'll be one more section in chapter 2, probably the longest. If I didn't go ahead and post each section after I was done with them, I'd probably never stop editing and get on to the next one :)  
  
  
  
Shadows : Chapter 2b  
  
  
  
"This is useless" Chloe sat back and threw her arms up in exasperation. "The problem is that everything significant is in the lack of something. How do you run a search based on the fact that there wasn't a body and that there wasn't a killer? It's like looking for a needle in a haystack except that the needle isn't really a needle, it's an empty needle shaped… void."  
  
"And the haystack is the size of Kansas?" Clark asked.  
  
"Try North America."  
  
Mr. Finn had been quite happy to have visitors. He'd greeted them, expressed sympathy with Clark over the trauma he must have experienced the night before, and he'd even invited them into his office to have coffee and chat for a while. What he hadn't done, despite numerous hints from Chloe that built to an outright request, was allow them to take a look at his guest list.  
  
"Oh no, couldn't do that." He had said, " I gave a list to the police of course but I certainly don't think my customers expect me to give out their names. Besides, you two kids really should leave well enough alone. This isn't the kind of thing you want to get involved with."  
  
The last sentence had carried a hard to miss air of disapproval.  
  
Chloe had wanted to go door to door and interview people directly. Clark had pointed out the pros and cons of bringing the attention of a killer to themselves and she had, after due consideration, admitted that it might not be the safest course of action. Thus they found themselves back at the Torch, a box of half eaten pizza sitting forgotten on a table, with the computer screen taunting them to try searching through just one more news site.  
  
"What have we got." Clark tried to go over it all again piece by piece "We've got a pool of blood, a dead bus driver, a bus that was going from New York to Metropolis but happened to break down in Smallville, and a killer who can not only disappear, but take the body with him."  
  
Chloe perked up at that last part. "Just because you didn't see him doesn't mean he disappeared, maybe you just missed him. I mean, you couldn't have been that close when you heard the scream. " She paused a second before continuing. "That's a good question, how long did it take you to get to the bus after you heard the scream."  
  
Oops.  
  
"Not long." He continued quickly in an effort to stop her from asking any more uncomfortable questions. "I was going right past the hotel when I heard it. It really wasn't that dark, I don't think anyone could have slipped out."  
  
"Clark there was like one light for that entire parking lot." After a moment's consideration Chloe pulled her chair closer to Clark. She could do that, right? They were technically dating, weren't they? Ever so casually she leaned her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. He always smelled so clean… She felt Clark lift his arm around her shoulders and she nestled closer. Apparently he could take a hint. "What were you doing there anyway? I called a couple times on Sunday and your parents had no idea where you were."  
  
"I spent the afternoon at the Beanery"  
  
The Beanery, not the Talon.  
  
"All by yourself?"  
  
"Except for the coffee. There was also a piece of apple pie but it didn't stick around long."  
  
She poked him in the ribs and received a satisfying grunt in response.  
  
"Setting aside why you decided to spend your Sunday afternoon, all alone, at the Beanery, which I will refrain from prying about right now, that doesn't explain how you ended up at the hotel six blocks away when someone decided to scream. What is it with you and dangerous nasty things, it's like you've got radar or something." The chair arm was definitely in the way, she'd have to convince him to try this on a couch. She put that item on her to do list and pushed it right up to second with little debate.  
  
"I decided to take the scenic route home."  
  
Yes… the chair armrest was definitely in the way. Sitting up she looked at Clark's face for a moment, trying to decide what to say next when a light bulb went off inside her head.  
  
"Coffee." She said.  
  
Clark blinked. "Yes… Coffee… they serve allot of that at Coffee shops."  
  
"No. Coffee. Lana. Lana wanted you to talk with her."  
  
Clark simply frowned in confusion. "And we've been busy, I figured I'd just catch her at school tomorrow."  
  
Chloe hit the mental rewind button, pressing play right around the spot where Lana had left the Torch and Clark had walked in. She'd told him Lana wanted to talk to him. She did mention the Talon. Then she'd pushed the topic aside without mentioning the fact that Lana had seemed upset or that speaking to him had apparently been important. At the time she simply hadn't wanted to lose Clark's focus. A slight sensation of guilt knocked on her door, bringing with it a suitcase containing samples of selfishness and callousness for her personal inspection.  
  
"Actually, Clark, she seemed a little upset. I think she was hoping to talk to you tonight."  
  
Clark frowned and looked at the clock above the door. The small hand was pointing prominently at a perfectly shaped number ten.  
  
"Well, It's too late now. I'll have to catch up with her in the morning. Actually…"  
  
"Yah, I know." Chloe let out a sigh before finishing off the thought. "You take care of the pizza. I'll shut down the computer."  
  
"Deal." Clark sent her a smile but his eyes weren't quite in it for the first time in days. Part of him was off in Lana land. That look had gone on vacation for a while, and she hadn't missed it. The guilt at not mentioning Lana's mood disappeared entirely. She wasn't quite sure what to make of it anymore.  
  
The moment didn't last long and by the time they left the torch office hand in hand he seemed to be all hers. Not willing to spoil things over of a single portion of his thoughts she wasn't privy to, she did the only thing she could.  
  
She let it go. 


	7. Chapter 2c

Notes : Nope, chapter 2 still isn't done, there's still one more section to write. But this section has gotten fairly long I figured I'd go ahead and do one more edit and then post. Part 2d will come later.  
  
Shadows: Chapter 2c  
  
The morning, as it always did on the Kent farm, came early; but in no way could it be considered bright. Heavy rain echoed through the house, subtle in a way that allowed Clark to progressively push the sound to the fringes of his consciousness until he could almost forget it was there. It was also insistent, so that just when things began to seem silent the sound returned, pummeling him like a dull roar. Outside everything was gray and dim, hidden from the brunt of the sun's light by the heavy clouds above. Clark noted the last with regret; normally he enjoyed the rain, but not this day.  
  
"Not hungry this morning?" The voice of his mother asked behind him. Clark turned and smiled at her before picking up a piece of toast.  
  
"Nope, just thinking." He took a bite to prove that he was indeed his normal self.  
  
It was warm and buttery; he tasted the food and was suddenly reminded that he was, in fact, very hungry. The rain sank back to the periphery as he took up the task of emptying his plate.  
  
Martha Kent sat down across from him, placing a modest plate of ham and eggs in front of herself. She had been extremely curious about his altering relationship with Chloe, not to the point that she constantly asked him questions but he sometimes got the impression that she wanted to. He hadn't actually told his parents what he and Chloe were planning the previous evening, just that he would be home late. The next question was inevitable and predictable.  
  
"So, Clark, what did you and Chloe do last night?"  
  
"Research." He said the word, nonchalantly and with all the innocence he could muster before skewering a piece of bacon on his fork and depositing it in his mouth.  
  
"What kind of research?"  
  
He could see through walls, move faster than a humming bird, and stick his hand in a wood grinder without getting a scratch. They knew it, he knew it, so why not just spit it out?  
  
"Actually, we were looking into the murder from Sunday night."  
  
His mother's eyebrows rose and a look of mingled amusement and concern passed over her face. "Clark are you sure that's such a good idea?"  
  
Clark was as far from sure as he could possibly get. "Mom…"  
  
The sound of the front door opening and closing cut him short. Several moments later Jonathon Kent walked into the kitchen while drying his face with a ragged hand towel. On a farm, even in the pouring rain, there was always work that had to be done first thing in the morning and Clark's father had been outside seeing to some of those tasks. Smiling at his family he helped himself to some breakfast and sat down at the head of the table.  
  
His smile began to fade when he realized that he had obviously interrupted a sensitive conversation of some kind. "What did I miss?"  
  
"Clark was just telling me that he's taken a part time job as detective." After a second or two spent enjoying the baffled expression on her husband's face, Martha decided to take pity. "He was… 'looking into' the missing bus driver last night."  
  
Jonathon quickly turned to Clark and looked at him with intensity normally saved for disapproval of his friendship with Lex Luther. "You what?"  
  
Not good.  
  
"We stopped by the hotel, talked to Mr. Finn, tried to find any matches online. Nothing dangerous."  
  
"We, meaning you and Chloe? Maybe you should just leave this one to the police Clark," He held up his hand when Clark went to interrupt, "And even if you didn't, I'd understand, you're hardly going to get yourself hurt regardless of what happened in that bus. But why bring Chloe into it?"  
  
Clark tried and failed to suppress the amused grin that responded to the statement. "What makes you think I brought her into this?" He solidly placed emphasis on the 'I' and the 'her'. " I was the one telling Chloe to leave it alone."  
  
His mother shook her head, "…and of course that only encouraged her. So in the end you decided to go along and play bodyguard?"  
  
"Something like that." His father looked concerned and Clark couldn't blame him. "We'll be careful."  
  
"I know."  
  
Seriousness was put aside for the rest of the meal to be replaced with casual banter, farm business, and talk of school. Fifteen minutes later Clark was soaked to the skin and sitting on the school bus as it headed towards Smallville High.  
  
Twenty minutes after that he was soaked to the skin and sitting in the passenger seat of a patrol car as it headed towards the Smallville police station.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Sean had gone through the interview notes from the bus passengers one too many times. The obscenely small type font on the pages had begun to blur before his eyes and now seemed more akin to black fuzzy lines than words. Not that it mattered, every one of them contained the same collection of useless information. The police hadn't known what to ask and the results were almost uniformly irrelevant.  
  
What was your reason for travel?  
  
Have you ever seen the driver before?  
  
Where were you last night when the event occurred?  
  
Did you hear a scream?  
  
He was left with nothing but the responses to a mass of routine questions that led nowhere. None of it helped indicate that the situation resulted from anything beyond a typical sociopath. The one item that had been red flagged, the item which had brought him to Smallville to begin with, was the report concerning the young man who had initially discovered the apparent crime. When he'd compared it to the interviews he'd been left with many very unsatisfying questions.  
  
Sean closed the files in front of him and sat back to wait, picking up his coffee mug from the table and taking a sip before he realized with disgust that it had long since lost all heat. Sighing he stood, wavering a moment as lack of sleep caught up with him. Heading around the single desk in the sparsely furnished room, Sean opened the door and went in search of much needed caffeine.  
  
Walking into the sparsely populated bullpen of the Smallville P.D. was like stepping into his past. Of course it was cleaner and much less hectic than his past. Smallville was wholesome, the place where he'd learned about life hadn't been. It wasn't possible to help doped up drug addicts who would mindlessly steal just to get their next fix or to help the fifteen- year-olds that died by the handful in local gang wars. He hadn't been able to do anything for the woman forced to sell themselves on the streets or make the hate, the fear, and the death that permeated the worst parts of that city disappear. Raised in suburbia he'd had no idea what he was condemning himself to until he arrived in a world that quickly became his own personal manifestation of Purgatory. Sean had thought that he'd finally seen the worst evils of the world in that place.  
  
Unfortunately he'd been wrong.  
  
Following his later revelation and the subsequent recruitment into a new cause, one of the first things Sean had been taught was arrogance. Even though arrogance tended to instill dislike and contempt it often, in the same breath, gave impressions of competence and authority. It built a necessary wall between you and those you needed to control. Familiarity was an enemy.  
  
Thus it wasn't lack of empathy or understanding for the young man standing nervously behind Sean that made him wait before turning and acknowledging him. Neither was it a true belief that he was better and that others should wait on his pleasure like petitioners. It was simply the necessary use of arrogance to maintain the persona he was trying to build for the officer's of Smallville.  
  
After taking a generous amount of time to fill his coffee he finally turned and indicated that he was ready to hear what the officer had to say.  
  
"Sir, the Kent boy is here. They've put him in your office." Sean felt a half smile cross his face and turned back to the coffee machine to hide it. He grabbed a spare mug and filled it too before taking a brief second to drop several crème and sugar packets in his pocket. Obviously the officer was new, fresh as Sean could never remember having been. He'd had enough time to learn respect for government agents but had yet to adopt the distaste that normally accompanied it.  
  
He was also in no viable position to be referring to anyone as 'boy'.  
  
"Good, I'll be there in a minute."  
  
The officer simply nodded and left. Sean then turned and, with both coffee mugs held in one hand, began the short walk back to the office he'd appropriated. The upper half of its walls were made of clear glass that conveniently gave him plenty of time to consider Clark Kent before arriving. He was tall, dark haired, and clean cut. Wearing a flannel shirt and jeans Sean had to admit that Clark Kent was exactly what he'd expected of a teenager being raised on a farm.  
  
He also seemed very alert. That was good, it would make Sean's work easier.  
  
Opening the door with his free hand Sean walked into the office. Clark Kent looked up at him expectantly and Sean reached out to shake his hand. "Hello Clark, I'm agent Philips. Sorry for taking you out of school like this but we're concerned with what happened the other night. I called your parents and they told me where to find you."  
  
Sean sat down behind the one desk in the room and opened several binders filled with documentation concerning the case. He didn't really need any of them, but it always helped to look official.  
  
"So you told my parents about this?" Clark's eyed looked slightly suspicious.  
  
Sean feigned mild shock at the implication. In truth he had called Clark's parents, when dealing with minors it was one item of protocol that even he couldn't disregard. Mr. Kent hadn't wanted to let Sean interview Clark without him present, but Sean could be very convincing when he wanted to be and he'd painted a picture of routine couple with entire lack of malice.  
  
"Of course. You're not in trouble here. I'm sorry if the officers didn't stress that enough. I just need to ask you some more questions." Sean dropped some cream and sugar into his coffee before offering the other to Clark. Clark seemed to examine him for another moment before accepting it, apparently mollified by Sean's words.  
  
"Thanks."  
  
Sean made a show of looking down studiously at the reports before continuing. "There were some inconsistencies between what you told the police and the interviews they took with the rest of the hotel guests, probably more the result of no one asking the right questions than anything else. I was hoping you could help clear some of them up." Out of the corner of his eye he noted the stiffing of Clark's frame at mention of the discrepancies. It was unexpected, the response of someone who was guilty of something. By the time he looked up Clark looked relaxed again.  
  
"I'll do what I can."  
  
"Good… I appreciate it." Pulling a pad and pen from his suit pocket Sean began. "It says you were passing by the hotel when you heard a scream. I was hoping you could clarify that?"  
  
"Clarify?" Clark looked at him blankly for a moment. "I was on the sidewalk walking past."  
  
"And when you actually heard the scream…?"  
  
This time Clark didn't stop to think. "I was right beside the parking lot, directly ahead of the bus."  
  
Sean nodded and wrote on the pad. "About how far away were you?" Sean already knew how big the parking lot was, but he wanted to hear what Clark would say.  
  
"About fourteen meters."  
  
Fourteen meters, not ten or fifteen, but fourteen. The exact distance the police had measured as being between the bus and the street. It was an oddly precise measurement given the circumstances.  
  
"So the scream must have been quite loud if you were that close."  
  
He watched as Clark contemplated a moment, searching for an answer. "No, not loud. It was sort of… muffled. Easy to hear but not really loud"  
  
"Ah. That would certainly explain why no one in the hotel heard it." And it would. Sean made a note in his pad before continuing. "And what did you do when you heard the scream? Call for help?"  
  
"No, I ran over to the bus. It sounded like he was in pain."  
  
"And you of course wanted to help."  
  
Clark simply nodded. Sometimes Sean forgot just how different towns like Smallville could be from his native habitat. He was used to people turning and going in the other direction when they heard sounds of violence.  
  
"Now you said you're sure no one left the bus, why? It was dark, you weren't standing right beside it, and apparently there were two doors both turned away from the light…"  
  
"Agent Philips the sun was barely down. I had a clear view of both doors. If that's not enough, I didn't hear them open or close either." Clark was obviously very sincere. He was also very easy to believe. It didn't explain his earlier reaction but that might just have been nerves….  
  
A few words managed to penetrate from outside the office and Sean's attention instantly moved from Clark to the half audible conversation. "Missing Bank Manager…Yah… her…is panicked… no one … didn't show up at work this morning…"  
  
He looked back at Clark who was studiously watching Sean's demeanor. "Sorry Clark, could you excuse me for a moment?"  
  
"No problem." Clark took a sip of his Coffee and smiled as if to indicate his complete and utter desire to cooperate.  
  
"Great, thanks, I'll try not to be too long." Sean's hand itched to reach for his cell phone but he restrained himself. First he'd talk to the police chief, better safe than sorry. A disappearance right after the murder, it sounded like the beginning of a pattern he'd seen many times before, a pattern that while easily disguised elsewhere was glaringly hard to miss in a place like Smallville. In addition to the origin of the bus's journey and the obvious competence of Clark Kent, he had enough to warrant calling in a full investigation team.  
  
For the first time in months Sean found himself believing it might actually be a very good day. 


	8. Chapter 2d

Notes : Ok, last part of chapter 2 (yay!). Out of curiosity, is anyone still reading? ;) :: hangs a big wooden sign around his neck with "Will Work for Feedback" written in messy red paint. ::  
  
I can't figure out which category to keep the story in. General seems to encompass all the categories while embodying none of them which makes it both appropriate and inappropriate at the same time. If I could plop it in under 5 or 6 categories at the same time I'd be happy as a clam.  
  
Update : Ok… I wrote umpteen million continuity errors into this one tiinnyy section. Stupid me. Anyway I'm going to do my best to fix it up. This part is a complete non-event but it contains a necessary plot point.  
  
  
  
Shadows : Chapter 2d  
  
Clark had rarely been to the police station, the only occasion within recent memory being when he went to see Kyle Tibbet. Thinking back to the train wreck of incidents that had built up in Smallville over the past year he was amazed that it hadn't become a permanent home. Clark had barely stepped in the front door of the school that morning before the vice principle met him with a police officer and a polite request for his attendance at a follow up interview. Politely phrased anyway, perhaps the request part was debatable.  
  
He wasn't quite sure what to make of a federal agent descending on Smallville, it certainly cast the situation in a different light. Clark didn't know why no one else at the hotel had heard the scream, he was fairly sure it had been anything but 'muffled' or it would never have reached him all the way over at the Talon. But the explanation seemed to have appeased the agent and that was the important thing. Clark didn't mind helping the police, but giving the FBI even a hint of his abilities was the worst possible event he could imagine.  
  
To him the conversation outside the office had been perfectly clear. Obviously the disappearance of Stacy Valentine (who Clark was fairly sure he'd never met) had been extremely interesting to the agent. For some reason he'd immediately assumed the two events were connected and Clark couldn't help but wonder why. Pushing aside his nonsensical musing Clark let his eyes wander over the desk in search of clues he really wasn't expecting to find.  
  
Simple lamp, laptop computer, several open file folders, coffee cup… his gaze was drawn back to the file folders when his mind belatedly recognized the content. One showed some kind of interview report from the hotel, another was a transcript of the statement Clark had made to the police on their arrival and the last….  
  
The last was the guest list including names and credit card information that the police had taken from the hotel.  
  
He sat and stared at it, debating for a moment. He shouldn't. It was technically wrong. But as a practicality, when balanced against stopping a killer, the infraction would seem completely unimportant. A brief cliché concerning a very hot road and the preferred choice for paving it flashed through his head but he quickly dismissed the thought as out of proportion. Turning he noted that agent Philips was involved in an in depth argument with someone, a police officer, the subject of which was not immediately apparent. Reaching into his school bag Clark pulled out a notepad he'd been using for some homework and a pen, then he turned the note pad over to expose the more solid cardboard that was its backing.  
  
It was a long list, he might not have much time, and you could only do so much with paper before it was simply torn to shreds.  
  
Reaching across the desk he grabbed the several page long guest list and dropped it in front of himself. He then set about copying all the information as fast as humanly, or in his case inhumanly, possible.  
  
It took him about ten seconds to copy all the names and numbers down in the kind of miniscule neat printing he'd seen other students use on their physics test formula pages, barely managing to fit the entire five page list on the single eight by eleven piece of cardboard. He could have done it faster, but at the beginning the cardboard had looked suspiciously like it might ignite and he'd forced himself to slow down.  
  
Clark first placed the original list back in the file folder, then dropped his newly created copy in his bag along with the pen. He then sat back to wait for the agent's return. 


	9. Chapter 3a

Notes : Ok, this part was much easier to write than the last two, which felt a bit forced. Once you get going banter is pretty fun to work on. I think I'm almost through the majority of the exposition which helps. Coming soon to a fan-fiction site near you, Gabriel vs an FBI task force, who do you think will win? ;) (feel free to start up a betting pool… just as long as you let me enter)  
  
  
  
  
  
Shadows : Chapter 3a  
  
Clark Kent was sitting at Chloe's desk in the Torch office. That part didn't bother her, it was only nominally 'her' desk as others did frequently find themselves using it. The part that did catch her attention was the entirely too smug look he had on his face. Maybe smug was exaggerating, smug wasn't the kind of word that could really be applied correctly to Clark. But he was definitely…  
  
Pleased with himself.  
  
"Current rumor states that the police literally dragged you away this morning Clark. Care to comment?" She asked the question playfully despite the real interest behind it.  
  
Clark just continued to grin at her. No question about it, he looked entirely like…  
  
"Ok... spit it out… why do you look like the cat that ate the Canary?" She did her best to put on her stern face. It seemed appropriate.  
  
"Chloe, how long is it until Christmas?"  
  
"Long enough that I'd have to do actual math to figure it out. Why?"  
  
"Because… I picked you up a gift this morning." Clark leaned across the desk and laid several pieces of paper in front of her, neatly stapled together in one corner.  
  
"No bow?" Picking up the papers she found herself looking at a long but not immediately significant typed up list.  
  
"They were out of bows. Sorry."  
  
"You really do have a minimalist approach to Christmas." Chloe sat down on the corner of the desk and tried to figure out what exactly he'd given her. " Ok Clark, I'm looking at names, addresses, and what looks like credit card numbers. Are you sure this was on my list of desired gifts?"  
  
"That, is the list of all the guests staying at the hotel"  
  
Chloe stared at him in shock for a moment before looking back at the pages. Then she quickly began scanning through them, looking at each and every name as if they themselves might contain some hidden meaning. "God, Clark, where… how did you get this? Never mind, I don't want to know. Do I? What were you doing this morning?"  
  
Clark stood up from the desk and walked around it. "I spent the morning, part of it anyway, being interviewed by an FBI agent. "  
  
Putting the pages down she moved around the desk to sit in the seat Clark had just vacated. As she walked past him she felt the brief urge to give him a thank you hug but she restrained herself. She had clues, it was time to do some work. "What did he want?"  
  
"Just to ask me some more questions about Sunday night." Clark looked like he was getting ready to leave and when she noticed Chloe suffered a twinge of disappointment. She was surprised he wasn't going to stick around to help.  
  
"That doesn't explain how you got the list."  
  
"Let's just say that Agent Philips left me sitting in his office for about an hour, alone, with that list on the desk." Clark grinned at her before turning and heading for the door. "I'll be back in a bit."  
  
Yup, she'd been right, he'd been getting ready to leave. Her curiosity quickly kicked in. "Where are you going?"  
  
"I haven't had a chance to talk to Lana yet."  
  
Ah. Lana. Of course.  
  
Clark disappeared out the door and Chloe found herself alone in an office that suddenly felt much emptier. Pushing aside the twinge of doubt that still crossed her thoughts whenever Clark mentioned Lana she switched gears into the very familiar and comfortable journalistic mindset she'd been building up since she first began writing for the torch.  
  
Step one, input every name and address from the list into her computer…  
  
  
  
  
  
Clark found Lana in the cafeteria. She was alone, which seemed a little odd as he'd expected to find her with Whitney. A text book was spread out before her but she didn't seem to be paying any more attention to it than she was to her food, instead she was simply staring into the table as if trying to look at something embedded far beyond. Since Clark was, as far as he knew, the only Smallville student who could see through solid objects he was fairly sure that wasn't the case.  
  
He should have talked to her sooner. Clark had lost track of Lana since the funeral, having spent most of the intervening days trying to make up for every slight he'd ever made towards Chloe. It was like the people in his life were part of a juggling act but he couldn't manage more than a couple of balls in the air at the same time. Some always ended up stuck in his hands or lost on the ground.  
  
Sorting through the cafeteria offerings Clark purchased a moderately sized lunch before heading over to sit down across from her.  
  
Lana looked up and the corners of her mouth lifted slightly when she saw who it was. "Hi Clark."  
  
"Lana." Clark looked down to see what book was in front of her. It was a math text, open to a chapter that had been assigned more than two weeks ago. She was still on the first page. "How are you?"  
  
"Do you want the polite answer or the real answer?" She smiled as if it were a joke, but her voice wasn't in it.  
  
"The truth." She must be taking the death of Whitney's father hard, and he'd apparently been too clueless to notice. So much for his resolution to pay more attention to people.  
  
"In that case, I've been better."  
  
He found himself frowning unintentionally. "I'm sorry."  
  
Lana's eyes widened. "Why should you be sorry?"  
  
"Because it took me a week and a half and a request before I thought to ask you how you're doing?"  
  
This produced Lana's first real smile. "You've just been paying allot of attention to Chloe. It's sweet. And she deserves it, especially after what Justin… " She stopped, apparently deciding that some things didn't need to be remembered in too much detail. "You have nothing to apologize for Clark."  
  
Clark felt a little better after hearing the words, but looking at Lana he could still see the sadness permeating her eyes. That was no good. "What's wrong Lana?"  
  
"Aside from the obvious?"  
  
"You can include the obvious. I promise not to hold it against you." That earned him another smile.  
  
"Well… Whitney and his Mother are both completely depressed. Every time I'm over at their house someone ends up crying and I always find myself joining in. Then by the time I get home I'm completely drained. I don't think I've slept through the night since the funeral. Nell is worried sick." She shook her head. "... and in the meantime I've fallen so far behind in math class that I have no clue what the teacher is talking about anymore. At the rate I'm going I'll probably fail the finale exam"  
  
"Maybe you should take a break."  
  
Lana looked at him quizzically.  
  
"Just step away for a couple of days to recharge."  
  
She shook her head. "I can't do that to them. They need every bit of morale support they can get right now."  
  
Silence fell between Lana and Clark, neither quite sure what to say. He was the first to break it.  
  
"Well, I can help with the math part at least." School in general, but math in particular, had never posed any difficulty for Clark.  
  
"Actually that was why I was looking for you. I figured if anyone could save me from a horrible grade it would be you."  
  
"Definitely, just tell me when." Something he could help with, good. Clark hated feeling useless, at least this way he'd be doing something for her.  
  
"How about we start tomorrow at lunch and go from there?"  
  
"Deal."  
  
She looked relieved, like he'd just agreed to help her lift a bit of the weight on her shoulders. Maybe she'd sleep a little better that night, he doubted it, but he could hope.  
  
"Clark, how well did you know Whitney's father?"  
  
"Not well, I only talked to him a couple of times."  
  
She smiled sadly before continuing. "He was really nice."  
  
Clark didn't know what to say.  
  
Eventually Lana pushed away her tray and stated quietly that she'd lost her appetite.  
  
Clark had lost his as well.  
  
The pair talked softly until the lunch bell rang. 


	10. Chapter 3b

Notes : I should put this down for a day and then edit it AGAIN, but, as usual, I don't want to wait so I think I'll just go ahead and post it. Please Read AND Review :P  
  
Oh! I should have mentioned it sooner, but thanks again to Niggle for the very thorough set of comments :) When I first read them they earned several grins.  
  
Aright.. on to the long overdue violence… just a reminder I DID rate the story R for a reason. It's just taken me this long to get there.  
  
  
  
  
  
Shadows : Chapter 3b (last part of chapter 3)  
  
Throughout the day the weather had been alternating between annoying drizzles and outright downpours. By four in the afternoon water was descending from the sky in an angry torrent, while the threatening rumble of thunder called out from far off in the distance. Heavy clouds converged from every horizon casting the hotel exterior in a disconcertingly drab shroud. What they were about to do would have been better done in the brightest of daylight, but radar images indicated that the weather system wouldn't move past until after the sun went down. Night was out of the question, and the next day might be too late.  
  
So there they were.  
  
"Do you really think he's still here?" The voice was that of agent Mayweather, the man leading the first of the squads that had been sent to Sean shortly after he phoned in his request. Mayweather looked more like he belonged in the army than in the FBI. His hair was almost non-existent and years spent lifting heavy weights had left him looking like a three hundred pound gorilla. Given what Sean needed Mayweather for, he wasn't complaining.  
  
"Everyone who came on the bus signed into that hotel and none of them have checked out yet. He'll be there." Who 'He' was hadn't yet been solidly established. Through a process of elimination all but three of the guests had been removed as suspects, most having sufficient records of previous addresses to definitively mark them as unlikely targets.  
  
Five teams had been assembled. The first three would descend on the targets while the last two would secure the perimeter and the hotel exits. There were ten people to a team, each wearing kevlar and armed with assault rifles. Five snipers had been posted on top of near by buildings as a final contingency. The assumption was that at four in the afternoon the target would be easily captured, but given the disturbing amount of cloud cover and a lack of any real understanding concerning his limitations no one was taking any chances.  
  
The last of the snipers radioed in that they'd reached their position and Sean took a deep breath, casually wiping some of the water out of his eyes. He'd been waiting for this moment for years, but now that it had come a small voice in the back of his mind was telling him to turn around and run away as fast and as far as he could.  
  
Screw it.  
  
Sean lifted his radio. "Teams one two and three move into positions, team four secure the entrances."  
  
Through the rain all he could see of his people were vague outlines. Some of them moved to crouch before doors while the rest proceeded inside.  
  
Sean wondered how many of them he was about to get killed.  
  
  
  
  
  
Gabriel woke to the echoing shouts of angry voices. Sliding to an upright position he made a brief check of his dark, empty room, before moving to the door and opening it the smallest crack possible. Scowling at the bright lighting in the hall he watched as a large group of blue clad men and woman with guns stormed two of the hotel's rooms within view of his own.  
  
Why couldn't the stupid fucking bus driver have made it all the way to Metropolis?  
  
Cursing quietly Gabriel closed the door again and slowly backed away. There was a well-lit building in front of him and the sun outside behind him. He was trapped.  
  
But for some reason he didn't feel trapped.  
  
Closing his eyes he let himself relax. He couldn't touch the shadows, but for some reason he could still taste them. He could almost smell them. It took him a moment to finally register the steady hum of water drumming against the window and the rumble of thunder far off in the distance.  
  
Apparently it was finally his turn to get lucky.  
  
Gabriel gleefully flung back the curtains to reveal a sky covered in thick layers of gray that melted together like a blanket. Neither dark nor light, not day or night, the world was painted in shades of twilight.  
  
It wasn't release, but neither was it a trap. He'd make do.  
  
  
  
  
  
Chloe hung up the phone just as Clark walked into the Torch office. She looked up at him and he could almost feel the enthusiasm rolling off of her in physical waves. Her hair was slightly out of place and her expression was one of restrained excitement. In short, she looked adorable.  
  
That thought made him pause for a second. He didn't use, speak, or think the word adorable.  
  
Clark watched her as she began to speak and found the thought reiterating itself in a slightly disconcerting manner.  
  
"Clark, I take it back, that was one present for which no bow was required. Come take a look at this."  
  
"You weren't in English class." He moved across the room and leaned over her shoulder to take a look at the computer screen. A faintly sweet sent caught his attention instead and he found himself breathing in deeply just to get a heavier dose.  
  
Raspberries.  
  
Since when did Chloe smell like raspberries?  
  
"Our illustrious teacher let me skip out today to work on the Torch." She explained briefly before continuing on what she obviously considered items of much higher interest. "I took the names and checked them against the New York newspapers but, aside from an occasional innocent mention they were all completely under the radar. We can't find any obviously related cases so I couldn't try and run an address match or anything."  
  
Focus Clark…  
  
"So you got creative and found something?" To his own ears he sounded slightly distracted. He wondered if she'd noticed.  
  
Chloe reached back to squeeze his hand, which had somehow found its way onto her shoulder without his knowledge. "Creative? Try desperate. Look at the screen Clark."  
  
Dutifully he let his eyes wander over the web page Chloe had been looking at. Emblazoned in a bold font at the top of the screen were the words 'Star Wars'. Curiosity finally kicked in and helped clear his head, how had Chloe ended up at a Star Wars convention site? She pointed to the name of one of the organizers, then pointed to the same name on the list of hotel guests.  
  
"So tell me Clark, what's a Star Wars buff doing on a bus to metropolis when he's supposed to be at a convention in New York?"  
  
"Same name, different person?"  
  
"Nope, I called them and checked, apparently Mr. Steven Polluck was supposed to be at the conference, vulcan ears included, but no one has seen him. When I got through to the coordinators they were anxious to talk to me, they haven't heard from him in over a week."  
  
"Which raises the question…"  
  
"Of whether or not it was really Steven Polluck from New York that got on that bus."  
  
  
  
  
  
Sean listened as the teams called in their status. There'd been no gunfire, no resistance, just a bunch of scared people with no idea what was going on. Somehow Sean had missed something or made a mistake. He was about to signal that he was going inside to check out the suspects himself when a report came in from the back portion of the perimeter. The voice on the radio was calm and businesslike.  
  
"North side Agent Philips, someone just came out of a window over here. Can't really see who in this weather…"  
  
Right building, wrong people. Shit. Their aim had been off but maybe they'd flushed him out. "Team four, abandon exits and move around to the north side of the building. Team five tighten up the perimeter on that side."  
  
Sean set off at a quick run, he was in the wrong place to see what was about to happen. The other end of the parking lot suddenly seemed much farther away than he remembered.  
  
  
  
  
  
Agent Samual Rollins clipped the radio back to his belt and lifted his left hand to help steady his rifle.  
  
The shape just stayed there, kneeling in front of the broken window. Samual could see the other agents coming around the corner of the building but there were no entrances on that side and for the next ten seconds only he and two other agents he'd never seen before that day were in position to block the suspect's escape route.  
  
But still he just knelt there like a statue with water pouring over it.  
  
Move you son of a bitch.  
  
They'd drilled into Samual that this was going to be dangerous, that ripping people's throats out was the psycho's idea of a fun Friday night on the town. They'd also told them that if was at all possible the suspect was to be captured, not killed.  
  
The last part was bullshit of course, if he was that dangerous then all Samual wanted was an excuse to pull the trigger.  
  
The agents running around the corner of the building had barely moved, as if time had slowed down and it was taking them a minute to move a foot, which was a hilariously ridiculous thought. Rain blew into his eyes and he blinked to clear them, closing his eyelids in the first heartbeat, opening them in the next.  
  
And the shape was gone. Completely and utterly gone and that was impossible because he'd just been there.  
  
To his left Samual heard a sick squishing sound and he turned his head only to wish that he hadn't. The shape, now obviously an imposing figure hidden within a long black coat had his hand around one of the other two agent's throat, a tall wiry man who'd dropped his gun in an effort to pull the fingers free. The crunch of breaking bones signaled the agent's death as Samual tried to turn and point his rifle. The third agent was turning as well, a tall athletic looking brunette with eyes that widened in shock as she tried to bring her weapon around.  
  
But the man in the coat was faster and he casually knocked her aside and My God he'd just plunged his fist into her fucking chest! And Samual still hadn't been able to finish turning. The figure dropped her with blood still pouring out of her mouth and welling up from beneath the kevlar vest and for some reason she seemed to be taking far too long to reach the ground.  
  
And then Samual's gun was finally pointing in the right direction and he was squeezing his finger to shoot the bastard in the head and to hell with fucking capturing him. But somehow the man moved in and pushed the gun to the side just as bullets began to leap out of the barrel.  
  
That was when Samual finally realized he was about to die.  
  
  
  
  
  
By the time Sean rounded the corner the only thing left to find were the bodies. He forced himself to walk right up to them and take in every little detail, ignoring the acid that threatened to rise in his throat, he'd throw up later. It was obvious what had killed the first one, his throat had been literally crushed and his head hung limply from a neck that no longer provided any kind of support. The woman took Sean a moment longer, aside from the blood staining her face and her vest there was no obvious wound. Taking a closer look he found a large slice in the kevlar where a hand had somehow punched through not only the vest, but her chest, creating a hole the size of a fist where her lungs were supposed to be.  
  
Dark brown eyes stared at him accusingly and he forced himself to linger a moment.  
  
It was Sean's fault that they were dead.  
  
The third corpse made the first two look tame and he didn't even bother to try and distinguish individual wounds.  
  
The only sound of a struggle had been a brief burst of three rounds from an assault rifle, anything else had gone unnoticed. In disgust he realized that, even without success, his superiors weren't going to care that three of the agents had died. They'd probably be pleased, the target was still in the area and there was new information to be added to the archive. No one had known about the clouds.  
  
Picking up his phone he tried to figure out what he was going to tell them, and what he would need to do next. 


	11. Chapter 4

Note : Ok… I've writing a whole chapter at once just to be weird. It helps that I'm FINALLY at a point where I felt comfortable creating an outline for the rest of the story. The next 5-10 chapters worth of it anyway. This is the longest and most coherent chapter so far.  
  
As always, feedback == good. How else will I know if my writing completely sucks or not? :)  
  
  
  
Chapter 4:  
  
Chloe sat silently, waiting for Clark to say something more. They had a clue, the most circumstantial of clues fair enough but it beat walking around in the dark with a broken flashlight. There was nothing, or at least nothing remotely safe, that they could do with it themselves so the next obvious step was calling the police. This begged the question of why Clark was going through an internal debate on the subject. Not that she minded and not that she couldn't have snapped him out of it if she'd really wanted to.  
  
But with her luck he'd take his hands away, the ones that had at some point found their way onto her shoulders and the trade off really didn't seem worth it. He was making just the smallest of motions, not exactly a massage, just a gentle movement of his thumbs here followed by the subtlest of squeezes there. And for some reason it felt really, really nice.  
  
No, she had no intention of interrupting him.  
  
As if that internal confession had been his queue he let his hands slowly slide from her shoulders before taking a step back. "Agent Philips."  
  
Spinning her chair around while trying to hide her disappointment, Chloe found herself greeted with what she liked to call the savior complex version of Clark. Focussed, intense, and ready to set off to save the world. When Clark got in that mode he bore far too much resemblance to a self styled super hero. Some day he was going to get himself hurt.  
  
Chloe thought back to their conversation the morning before, where she had insisted on investigating the murder case, and was forced to admit that, maybe, she wasn't in a position to cast stones. But how often did you get the chance to track down an honest to god psychopath and reveal him to an entire country in black and white newsprint? Or in her case the entirety of Smallville but it was a step in the right direction.  
  
It wasn't the same thing at all.  
  
Flashback. Clark's barn, rustic and filled with the sent of hay. Clark's worried voice on the phone as she tried to tell him what she'd found out because who else was she going to tell? Justin throwing her around, taunting her, all traces of the romantic, quirky teenager wiped or peeled away to be replaced with cruelty and anger. Darkness as something solid collided with her head and the sudden knowledge that she was about to die…  
  
Only to find herself looking into those two worried blue eyes staring down at her, Justin's unconscious form crumpled and forgotten against the far wall, and suddenly she'd realized that maybe she wasn't going to die after all.  
  
No, on second thought, let Clark play super hero, Chloe would be the last person to complain. She'd just have to make sure she was around to drag 'his' ass out of the fire when he finally bit off more than he could chew.  
  
She never did figure out how Clark had gotten to the barn fast enough to stop Justin.  
  
"Chloe?" There were those blue eyes again. "We should call agent Philips, from what I saw it looks like he's pretty much in charge."  
  
It only took her a moment to realize that she was supposed to be saying something. "Um, sure, that makes sense. I can't think of anything else we can do on our own. He didn't tell you why the FBI has taken over by any chance?"  
  
Clark shook his head and reached for the phone. "No, and I was feeling too guilty about the list to ask. I'll try the police station, they should know how I can get in touch with him."  
  
Turning back to the computer Chloe looked at the one measly lead she'd managed to dig up, by the brute force method of running every name on the list through every search engine she could think of no less. One part persistence and nine parts luck. Chloe tried to think of something else she could do but came up blank, a sensation she was neither familiar with nor happy about.  
  
"Chloe" For some reason Clark hadn't phoned yet and he was looking at her with the oddest expression.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Why do you smell like raspberries?"  
  
Wow, he'd actually noticed.  
  
"New Soap." She then tossed him a teasing grin "Do you like it?"  
  
And with an entire lack of typical Clark awkwardness he simply nodded before turning back to the phone. "Yes. I do."  
  
After the shock faded, Chloe relaxed into her chair and waited patiently for the world to end, for time to go into reverse, or for the person talking on the phone to admit that the real Clark had been abducted and he was just an alien imposter.  
  
  
  
  
  
Gabriel had run, but he hadn't run very far. No one had tried to follow him as he fled into the depths of the rampaging storm. Gabriel had always felt like someone was trying to find him, to track him down, but never before had he ever actually met the sorry excuse for a predator. His curiosity was peaked.  
  
Turning he headed back in what was roughly the direction of the hotel, walking casually as he tried to project an air of irrelevance and disinterest.  
  
Across the street a group of obnoxious teenagers passing by almost stopped to look at him, turning in his direction in a way they never would have considered doing at night.  
  
Look away, look around, nothing to see but shadows…  
  
It wasn't enough, their attention was still moving in his direction.  
  
Look the fuck away or your eyes are going to be plucked from your skull while your…  
  
That did it. Their eyes slid past him as if he wasn't there and even from the other side of the road he could taste their terrified shivers. One of them tried to make a joke but the rest just stayed silent and began walking a little bit faster, anxious to be elsewhere without really knowing why.  
  
He briefly considered going back and killing them, but dismissed the idea. His body was already alternating between placidity and giddiness from the recent kills. It was having trouble accommodating the sensation with an hour of the day in which he would normally still be deep in slumber.  
  
As Gabriel neared the hotel he began to look for someplace he could watch from, someplace he could hide unseen from watchful eyes while he took a good look at his hunter.  
  
And his prey.  
  
  
  
  
  
The world still existed and time continued to march continuously forwards, so much for absolutes. Chloe was trying to observe Clark out of the corner of her eye and pay attention to the road in front of them at the same time. It wouldn't have been the best split of focus in a busy city like Metropolis, but in Smallville traffic was rarely heavy and, at that particular moment, seemed almost non existent.  
  
The reason she was driving was that the officer at the police station had been almost completely unhelpful. Clark had described him as "vague" and "distracted". At mention of agent Philips there had been an obscure comment directing them to the hotel after which Clark had been summarily disconnected. It wasn't a shining example of Smallville hospitality. Maybe he had a major crime spree to deal with or something, who knew. Chloe had tried calling the hotel, but for some reason Mr. Finn wasn't answering the front desk.  
  
All that had been left was to drive down in person.  
  
"Chloe?" Clark had turned to look at her. They'd been silent for the first part of the drive, each lost in their own speculations.  
  
"Yes Clark?"  
  
"Did you have any plans for tonight?" She thought about the physics homework that she'd been meaning to take care of, the article that she'd hoped to finish up for the Torch and the dinner that she'd been going to share with her father. Then she looked at Clark and forgot all about them.  
  
"Not at the moment."  
  
"Then, after we're done here, is there any chance you'd let me buy you dinner?" She could count on one hand the number of times he'd offered to take her out to supper, and all of them had been in the past week and a half. The assertive part of her that was used to thinking of Clark as a friend insisted on pointing out that she was very capable of buying her own food. It objected to the change in footing. The part of her that was more focussed on being a teenage girl went a little gooey inside and tried not to grin.  
  
"You twisted my arm. But I get to pick where." She let the teenage part go and the grin emerged, finding immediate reciprocation.  
  
"Deal."  
  
Next time she'd simply take 'him' out to supper to make up for it, the look on his face would be worth it. It would also make a good compromise, as it would satisfy both the independent woman and teenage girl parts of her at the same time. "And then afterwards we can stop by the Talon, sip coffee, and make fun of Pete when he brings by his fifth date this month."  
  
As Chloe pulled up to the hotel she found herself staring at a half dozen police officers who were busy cordoning off the parking lot, all of them looking completely miserable. In the background she could see more people moving in and out of the hotel or searching the lot, many of them looked like they were armed for a war instead of a crime scene. Chloe was forced to park a short distance down the street, having been waved away when they got too close to the officers.  
  
"I wonder what happened here." Chloe filled the sentence with appropriate confusion. No one would pay that much attention to a two-day-old crime scene.  
  
In an attempt to avoid some of the rain she pulled out the single umbrella that she normally kept stashed in her back seat. When she moved to share the protection with Clark she held it in a way that forced him to walk close or risk a thorough drenching. Waste not want not, it was a saying for a reason.  
  
"No idea. It explains why the guy at the station was so distracted though." He paused, and without further speculation to offer decided to continue their earlier conversation instead. "When did Pete become such a ladies man anyway? I still remember when he turned speechless because a girl asked him to Lana's birthday party."  
  
"I think he saw the way you were acting around girls and decided to become the anti-Clark." Did she just say that out loud? Chloe thought about it for a second before deciding that, yes, she had said that out loud.  
  
Clark seemed to take the comment with surprisingly good humor "So you what, think I should be cave man Clark and drag women by the handful back to my barn?"  
  
Once again proving he had indeed been raised on a farm, didn't he get it when…  
  
Chloe almost shrieked, then collided with Clark as several unseen fingers, attached she was fairly sure to the arm Clark had reached around her when she wasn't watching, took a brief moment to tickle her with surprising effectiveness. She ended up pressed against his side with his arm holding her loosely against him. She could tell he wanted to laugh at her reaction and, really, she didn't mind.  
  
Apparently he got it after all.  
  
When they turned back to the hotel they found themselves facing some very nervous looking police officers, several of whom had obviously started to reach for their guns at her unexpected outburst. Clark and Chloe separated as they felt the tension in the air for the first time. Something had definitely happened, something bad.  
  
Chloe took the lead as they walked towards the recently installed line of police tape, doing her best to look like a serious journalist. Of course she was damp at best and soaked at worst, the blowing wind having circumvented the umbrella for the most part, and all of the police officers had just heard her making very unprofessional sounds, but Chloe was up to the task. It was all about demeanor.  
  
"We'd like to speak to Agent Philips." Yes, she sounded very much like a journalist. They'd have to take her seriously.  
  
"Yah, sure, this area is off limits at the moment miss so if you'd mind just stepping back…" or maybe not.  
  
"Can you just tell him that Clark Kent is here and wants to speak with him? He knows who I am." As journalistic seriousness had failed before it even began, Clark was obviously going to try Kent Charm. He probably had on that friendly 'I'm a nice guy who you really want to help out' face, the one that usually looked just the slightest bit desperate.  
  
"Uh huh." The officer scowled at as if trying to decide what set of actions would cause him the least inconvenience. He didn't seem to be in the most generous of moods.  
  
Chloe decided to tip the scales. "If he says he doesn't want to talk to us we'll turn around and walk away. I promise." She waited several seconds before adding, "It's important."  
  
The officer sighed, but in the end decided that it would be the easiest way to get rid of them. "Fine. Just wait here." Before leaving he turned half way back to deliver a single parting comment. "And don't cross this line, everyone is trigger happy right now."  
  
The last part had held genuine concern, maybe she hadn't given him enough credit.  
  
They watched as he marched out to a group of what must be federal agents. The man he addressed was wearing what she could only assume was a blue flak jacket and carrying a rifle, just like the rest of them, but unlike the rest he didn't look like he spent most of his time lifting weights. He also looked just a bit too young to be in charge of so many people. He turned his head to glance in their direction before looking back at the officer and giving him some instructions.  
  
"He's going to let us in." Clark whispered the words from behind Chloe, she hadn't realized that he'd moved that close to her.  
  
"How do you know that, he might have just told him to arrest us for all I can tell."  
  
The officer they'd been talking to returned and Clark's response went unsaid. The tape was held up and they were motioned under.  
  
First a telekinetic, now a clairvoyant, she was developing an interesting pattern where men were concerned. Though in all fairness, she corrected herself, the clairvoyant came first and the telekinetic was, at best, a pit stop.  
  
As they approached agent Philips Chloe concluded that if she had formed expectations concerning him, he wouldn't have met them. Tall with a face that might have been considered ruggedly handsome under the right circumstances, the effect was ruined by the impression that he was… underfed? That wasn't quite right, but his cheeks just seemed a bit too hollow, and his eyes were just a fraction too intense. When he spoke his voice had the confident air of someone that was fully in charge and knew it.  
  
How old was he… thirty? Surely he couldn't be more than thirty…  
  
"Clark, the officer said you had something to tell me." He didn't take the time for pleasantries, nor did he so much as glance in Chloe's direction. Either he was very rude, or very preoccupied.  
  
"Yes, though from all this…" Clark was sweeping his gaze around, looking at the multitude of people and the literal arsenal. "What happened?"  
  
Now the agent finally looked at Chloe.  
  
Yes, hey. it's me, I'm here. Thanks for noticing.  
  
Then after a quick glance he looked immediately back at Clark. She finally understood what it felt like to be chopped liver. "Just tell me what you know Clark, I really can't talk about this right now."  
  
Clark nodded, obviously deciding it would be better to share before they got kicked out instead of after. "Steven Polluck. I think he's the person you're looking for."  
  
The agent's face transitioned from exhaustion, to shock, to alertness at the words. He'd recognized the name. "Actually, I already know that. But I'd love to know how you found out."  
  
Clark handed him the print out from the convention. "Apparently he was supposed to be at that convention on Sunday, but no one has heard from him in over a week. Instead he disappeared, and somehow showed up on that bus headed to Metropolis. I realize it's not much…"  
  
The agent shook his head, "no, but it would have been enough." He looked at Chloe again, but this time he actually watched her, evaluating her. She just stared back. A condescending grin crossed his haggard face and Chloe decided that she really, really wanted to slap him. General good manners, professionalism, and the disturbing number of people with dangerous looking guns deterred her from any such action.  
  
"Who's your friend Clark?"  
  
Ah… permission to speak. How nice. Chloe stepped forward and lifted her hand to imply that she expected a handshake. "Chloe Sullivan, editor for the Smallville Torch. Pleased to meet you Agent Philips."  
  
To her surprise this seemed to please him to no end and he shook her hand with an air of amusement. "Likewise. So are you two going to tell me how you knew this Steven Polluck was on the bus?"  
  
Clark and Chloe looked at each other for a moment. Clark was the one who spoke, it was he after all who had snatched the list. "Does it matter?"  
  
"No, probably not. Anyway you don't need to worry about it anymore, he's escaped and is on his way to Metropolis by now. He's on foot, so if we're lucky we'll be able to catch him some where in the middle. Clark, Miss Sullivan…" The agent began to turn around, obviously considering them dismissed.  
  
Not yet. "Agent Philips, is that what happened here? You tried to catch him?" A slight cloud dropped over the agent's face when he realized they obviously hadn't taken the hint. Beside her Clark looked slightly uncomfortable but that didn't matter, sometimes you had to be pushy, Clark hadn't figured that out yet.  
  
"Yah, that's what happened." Philips sounded haggard now, as if she'd brought up a painful memory.  
  
"What went wrong?"  
  
Mistake. She'd pushed a button. She wasn't quite sure what button but from the growl it produced in his throat it must be someplace sensitive. He stepped towards Chloe, obviously planning to get right into her face and intimidate her. Clark stepped between without hesitation.  
  
The two men ended up so close that their noses were almost touching. The anger in the agent's face was still obvious, but now it was directed at a new target.  
  
"She's right. We deserve to know what's going on." Yup, a big cuddly guard dog, that was Clark all right. His voice sounded calm, and determined. As far as Chloe could tell he couldn't care less about the big nasty looking gun hanging from agent Philips' shoulder.  
  
The agent didn't back down, but he did look away, briefly aiming his gaze at some of the local police littering the seen. He then looked back into Clark's eyes and took a small step backwards before favoring them both with a bitter smile. "It doesn't matter I guess, it'll probably be all over the news by tomorrow. He wasn't where we were expecting him to be, and three agents died. My agents. Now get the hell out of here before I have you thrown out."  
  
The time for pushiness was far past, and the two did their best to stage a dignified withdrawal.  
  
  
  
From the top of a near by building Gabriel watched as the two teenagers turned and walked away. For some reason the man they'd been talking to looked familiar, but Gabriel couldn't figure out why no matter how hard he tried. But he was sure of one thing.  
  
That was the man that had tried to trap him. Normally Gabriel would just take the direct route and gut him, but this wasn't normal. No one hunted him, he hunted them. An infraction of that magnitude deserved more than a quick death in response.  
  
The two teenagers were interesting, they stood out amidst the sea of uniforms and Gabriel felt his eyes drawn to the cute little blonde. The cocky jock beside her didn't interest him, not really his type, but she… Gabriel wondered what the wannabe hunter's reaction would be if he woke up tomorrow to find her head in front of his hotel room door.  
  
No, decapitated heads were too much of a cliché. Gabriel would leave the feet too, if only to show that he had a sense of originality.  
  
  
  
  
  
"I don't get it Chloe." And he didn't, there were many things in the world that didn't make sense to him but this new revelation was completely and utterly mind boggling. "I've never understood what people find thrilling about watching fake villains find as many ways as possible to chop people up. I figured you of all people would write them off as being without any dramatic merit."  
  
"But that's just it, not everything is about drama. Sometimes the baser part of the human psyche just wants to soak in some violence. Hack and slash films are like the overkill version, a couple of doses all at once and you can spend the rest of the year being your normal civilized self." She stopped briefly to take a sip of her coffee before continuing. "And besides, some of them are so fake they're absolutely hilarious."  
  
Clark just shook his head. "All this time, I never realized you actually enjoyed Pete's Halloween marathons. So are you saying that all the freaks in Smallville simply didn't watch enough horror movies? That if we'd just made them sit down and watch Friday the whatever parts one through infinity they'd have been so thoroughly overdosed on violence that they couldn't even think about hurting anyone?"  
  
She nodded "If the state would just accept my theory we could empty the prisons and mental wards within a year. I thought you liked Pete's marathons, if you don't like them why do you always go?"  
  
"I like the company." That earned him a grin, and it was true. Even if he wasn't particularly fond of the movies themselves, watching Chloe and Pete cringe and shudder as a man in a mask hacked off people's limbs had become an immediate guilty pleasure.  
  
"So… Chloe… Clark…" Pete came up behind where they were sitting and put one arm around each of their shoulders. "How's it going?"  
  
Clark waited for the appearance of Pete's date, and then found himself waiting some more as she never appeared. "Weren't you supposed to be here with Casandra tonight?"  
  
Pete walked around the table and sat down. "I got stood up. I waited at her door for five minutes before I finally realized that there was no one home." Pete only looked slightly disappointed, he hadn't been lacking for female companionship lately. "I don't get it, I talked to her this morning and she said she was looking forward to it."  
  
Pete looked up and eyed them before continuing. "But enough about me, how are my two favorite people doing? Is Clark treating you right Chloe?"  
  
Clark managed to swallow the coffee, but only barely. It had expressed a very insistent desire to exit via his nostrils but he'd managed to restrain it. Pete enjoyed teasing him far too much.  
  
Chloe on the other hand didn't seem to mind at all. She slipped her fingers between his before responding. Maybe he didn't mind either.  
  
"Actually Mr. Kent bought me dinner… preceded by a romantic tour of a grisly murder scene. What more could a girl ask for?" It was Pete's turn to nearly eject his coffee.  
  
"What?"  
  
They proceeded to tell Pete all about the hotel and the FBI's botched attempt at apprehension while Pete cooperated by expressing shock and dismay at all the appropriate points. "See, Clark, this is why you two are perfect together. If you'd brought any other girl to see a couple of dead bodies…"  
  
"We didn't actually see any bodies."  
  
Pete waved the comment aside. "… they'd have turned around and run in the other direction as fast as possible."  
  
Chloe squinted at Pete, probably trying to decide if he was entirely clear on what he was talking about. "And that makes sense how?"  
  
"Dead bodies… Bee Ladies… over-psyched Hypnotists… it's all the same." Something caught his attention and he looked towards the Talon entrance for a moment before continuing. "Sorry you two, Cassandra may have abandoned me but the night is young. I'll catch up with you later." Clark followed Pete's gaze back toward the front door where two of the younger, prettier and most importantly single, girls from his physics class had just walked in the door.  
  
"Good luck." Pete was already too far-gone to hear. Clark turned back to Chloe, who looked very pleased for reasons unfathomed, "You honestly think I'm the one who inspired him to that?"  
  
"It's entirely your fault."  
  
"You wound me."  
  
"I enlighten you."  
  
"That too…"  
  
  
  
  
  
An hour and several large doses of caffeine later Chloe finally gave into her guilt. She'd tried to ignore it, but Lana had been eyeing Clark from behind the counter off and on all evening. The fact that Clark hadn't noticed, that he'd instead happily sat there joking with Chloe while holding her hand, was going a long way towards curing her Lana insecurities. But Chloe knew what it felt like to be on the wrong side of Clark obtuseness and, in the end, she simply had to say something.  
  
"Clark," she internally braced herself while making sure Clark saw no hint of her reservations "I get the impression that Lana really wants you to go over and talk to her."  
  
She watched while Clark thought about what she'd said, pensive but not immediately obsessive. So far so good.  
  
After several moments he shook his head, "No, I'll talk to her tomorrow. Right now I'm talking to you."  
  
Again there were no global catastrophes, what an unusual day. "Tomorrow?"  
  
He nodded. "I told her I'd help her out with math at lunch tomorrow. That's what she wanted to ask me about"  
  
Moving down her list of 'things to find out' she checked off 'what's bothering Lana' and filled in the answer. Then to be sure "That's all?"  
  
"That's all."  
  
Spiffy.  
  
Chloe checked her watch. Late, but not too late, it was dark outside but not oppressively so. The rain had stopped shortly after sunset, giving way to clear skies and a full moon. It was time for a change of venue.  
  
"I think Pete," she glanced over to where Pete was chatting up the two girls, apparently unwilling to settle for just one of them. "… is lost for the evening. Why don't we head back to your place, watch a movie…"  
  
… or make out on the couch…  
  
"… or something."  
  
Chloe forced her mind down a gear. Clark and Kissing (capital K required) were two things she was still trying to bring together. They belonged together, sort of like peanut butter and chocolate.  
  
His smile was innocent and completely unaware of her lecherous thoughts. "Sure."  
  
She'd work him up to it. For tonight number two on her list, the recently added cuddling on a couch, would do nicely.  
  
  
  
  
  
The door to the Talon opened, and the blond teenager emerged. He adjusted his opinion, she wasn't cute, she was 'too' cute. Cute to the point where he just wanted to throw up. She was slightly rumpled from the storm, her hair still out of place and her dress beginning to wrinkle, but she didn't seem to care. Neither did her chaperone, the tall dark haired jock that couldn't seem to keep his eyes off of her, apparently he was naturally immune to excessive levels of cuteness.  
  
He'd have to kill them both now, what a pity.  
  
Chuckling as if he'd made a joke, Gabriel detached himself from the wall and followed them, his shape an unnoticed shadow on the far side of the street. 


	12. Chapter 5a

Notes : Ok… if no one comments on THIS one.. then I swear I'm going on strike :P  
  
Really  
  
I mean it.  
  
Honest.  
  
Either that or I'll kill off Clark ;) I can do it! I'm a fanfic author, never forget that : ) Continuity my ass…  
  
  
  
Shadows : Chapter 5a  
  
The lamp directly above Chloe's car was broken, as was the next one down the street in either direction. It seemed an odd coincidence and both he and Chloe stopped before entering into the resulting region of ominous darkness.  
  
"It could be a coincidence, right? At some point in the history of mankind three lights in a row were bound to all go out at the same time." Clark wondered if Chloe was trying to convince him, or herself. If she was trying to convince him it wasn't working and if she was trying to convince herself… then from her tense expression that didn't appear to be working either. "Ok, too much caffeine, next time I'm strictly limiting myself to two cups."  
  
She grabbed his hand and tried to pull him towards her car but he held on and pulled back instead. Chloe made a grunting sound when she realized he was completely and utterly refusing to move.  
  
"Wait… just wait a second." He pulled her closer and put one arm around her protectively, then he carefully looked every direction. Darkness was a problem for normal vision, but Clark had other options.  
  
"Clark?" He ignored the question in her voice and took everything in. Staring into every crevice, looking not only at, but also through, every corner until he was absolutely sure they were alone.  
  
Finally he gave up; he was jumping at shadows. "Ok Chloe…" a last feeling of caution prodded him and he decided it was best that he pay attention to it "Just stay close to me, ok?"  
  
He could hear the smile in Chloe's voice, "Sure, I'll be your security blanket." They'd barely stepped out of the light when he heard something and stopped again. Chloe had obviously lost her fear and made a noise that he was fairly sure could be classified as a giggle. "We're never going to get there this way."  
  
"Didn't you hear it?" He looked again, faster this time but just as thorough. He still couldn't see anything, yet he was sure they weren't alone.  
  
"Hear what?"  
  
"Footsteps."  
  
They stood still, just within the shadows' embrace, and listened. "You're hearing things."  
  
Clark shook his head. "No, there it was again. Don't tell me you didn't hear that."  
  
He felt Chloe pull herself away from him unexpectedly and resisted the urge to stop her. "Come on Clark, I don't want to spend all night standing out here. I want to go to your place, sit on your couch, and maybe steal a couple of pieces of your mother's famous pie."  
  
Unwilling to let her proceed alone he followed her towards her car, staying so close that he was almost touching her the entire way. Finally he was forced to back off, separated as she moved to the driver's side while he waited at the passenger door.  
  
A shiver traveled up Clark's spine, refusing to go unnoticed and insisting that somehow, someway, something was wrong. Then he heard the footsteps again. Clark wasn't imagining anything, there was someone there. Turning he stared into the darkness behind the car, if he could hear someone then he should be able to see someone. Damnit!  
  
Anger consumed him at the affront to his perceptions and he pushed, then pushed harder, increasing the pressure inside his head as if some giant bubble was wrapped around his skull and if he tried hard enough he might, somehow, make it burst. Suddenly the thin curtain between his mind and his eyes shredded, ripped apart from the force of his protest.  
  
The figure was tall and almost invisible, his one piece of clothing a dark black trench coat that whipped around him, riding on the gentle night breeze as if it were a blistering gale. He was slightly crouched, his body angled as if he'd been about to literally pounce on Chloe. For some reason she didn't even seem to know that he was there.  
  
As if he could sense Clark's gaze, the man's head slowly turned away from Chloe to look, instead, at Clark.  
  
The eyes were completely black, not black surrounded by white but dark pools of obsidian where light had no business existing. The voice was deep, rough, and mocking. When the figure spoke he started slowly, almost hesitantly, not from emotion but, instead, as if he was so unused to talking that it took him a moment to remember how.  
  
"Now this is interesting." Every syllable carried upon it the scent of death.  
  
Chloe spun away from the car door and stared in shock. "Where the hell did you come from?" Hell wasn't normally in Chloe's vocabulary, but the same word had been lurking in the back of Clark's mind. In most cases it was an expression, in this case it felt like it might be literal.  
  
"Clark?" Her voice wavered as she said his name. Why didn't she move?  
  
"Yes. Clark. How did you see me? You really weren't suppose to see me you know." The thing, because calling it a man suddenly seemed an insult to the human race, was within several paces of him. He tried to figure out what to do but instead found himself staring into its eyes, his thoughts a jumble as he tried to extricate himself and bring them together into some kind of coherent form.  
  
"Clark?!" Chloe's voice was far off, completely terrified.  
  
Why would Chloe be terrified? And why did it seem to matter so much…  
  
Then it turned away to look at Chloe and in an instant Clark remembered where he was and what was going on and why exactly he should care. The thing had moved so close to him that it couldn't be more than an arm length away. He hadn't even seen it move.  
  
"Watch." The single word slithered out of its mouth towards Chloe and she stood, staring with panicked eyes, obeying.  
  
One hand, a blur amidst the night air, flew towards Clark's chest with the force of a bullet, pounding into him before he could react. Then it stopped, frozen as if it had impacted not against a human chest but with a steal wall. The thing's face contorted in an imitation of confusion and disgust before it howled, reaching out again to sweep its arm across Clark's throat.  
  
But, of course, again it didn't work. Clark was finally ready and as the thing's clawed hand hurtled by he leaned back just far enough to avoid its touch. The air vibrated against his skin at its passage.  
  
Reaching forward Clark grabbed the thing, not caring what it was or who it was, and he threw it into the brick wall of the nearest building. Or, at least, he tried to. When his hand reached the black trench coat covering there was nothing to grip, nothing for him to hold onto, and his hand simply passed through. When he pulled out of the thing's chest his hand felt like it was covered in oil and filth… like he'd just washed it in a sewer and dried it with heaps of garbage.  
  
The entire exchange had been quick, too quick, and Chloe was still standing on the other side of the car staring at them. Clark doubted she'd been able to process anything beyond the first of the creature's ineffective blows.  
  
All anger had faded from its visage and the eyes were staring at him while a malicious grin cracked its lips. "Very interesting." Clark fixed his gaze on its mouth, the eyes felt dangerous somehow and something inside warned him to avoid being drawn back in.  
  
How do you hurt something when you can't even touch it?  
  
It tilted its head in Chloe's direction, and then turned back to consider Clark for a moment. Even without seeing its eyes he could tell what it was thinking. The final proof of this permeated the next two words out of its mouth.  
  
"Race you."  
  
Time slowed down as it began to move, not running like a man but instead flowing as a shadow before a tilted light.  
  
Chloe! His mind shouted out in protest and he didn't have time to consider the results, didn't have time to think of other options; Clark was caught between moments as the darkness moved to engulf her. There was no time left for debate and, in the end, it wasn't needed.  
  
He moved.  
  
  
  
  
  
Chloe watched as the creature slid around her car, creeping up on Clark step by step as he just stood there. Staring at it.  
  
She wanted to scream but her lungs refused to suck in enough air. She wanted to run but her feet seemed to be embedded in the cement. She wanted to put her arms around Clark and protect him, but he was over six feet away and separated from her by several tons of red automobile.  
  
All she could do was call his name and put into her voice every ounce of fear and terror and hope that somehow he would notice and just move. But he simply stood there, staring into its eyes, until it finally turned the dark orbs towards her instead.  
  
"Watch."  
  
Watch as Clark died. That was what it meant. For the briefest of moments she hated herself. She should be able to DO SOMETHING. Then reality shed itself with a single tear and she did as it had told her. She watched, consumed in instant depression as with the single blink of an eye its fist drilled into Clark's chest like a spear.  
  
The world ended, and Chloe waited for it to take her along with it.  
  
Several moments later, with a frustrated scream echoing on the night air, she realized that for some reason Clark was still standing, staring at the creature. The blank look was gone from his face and he was looking at its mouth, fear and disgust written plainly and unmistakably.  
  
And he wasn't dead.  
  
And the creature looked almost happy for some reason. It looked like it had just found a new toy and now it was going to go play with it.  
  
And Clark wasn't dead.  
  
She had no idea why, and she really didn't care.  
  
Clark wasn't dead. The thought continued to chant in her head like a mantra.  
  
Two pairs of eyes turned towards her and she heard the words cut through the air, said in a voice that produced images of flowing blood and rotting corpses even as she tried to focus on their meaning. "Race you."  
  
Maybe the world was going to end after all.  
  
On one side of the car shadows flowed towards her, on the other Clark's form blurred as it seemed suddenly to exist opposite her, beside her, and everywhere along the path in between all at the same time.  
  
  
  
  
  
The moment lasted the merest fraction of a second as life competed with death to reach a single goal. Gabriel was fast. Clark was faster.  
  
  
  
------------------------------------  
  
More Notes : I was going to just write the whole chapter at once again, instead of posting it in parts, but damnit I've been waiting to write this portion for a while : ) So here it is, now I'm going to try and force myself to get some sleep. 


	13. Chapter 5b

Shadows : Chapter 5b (last part)  
  
Chloe fought to keep her eyes open but it was hard, really hard. In a single moment she had transitioned from stillness to movement in a way no person was ever meant to and the shear pressures involved had combined to push her back towards darkness. It was the more comforting darkness of sleep and unconsciousness that called her, but it didn't matter, she had no intention of giving in.  
  
Chloe tried to watch, to understand what was moving before her eyes but it was too fast, too much to comprehend. Buildings, a field, a road, trees, all were individual snapshots extracted from an unfathomable kaleidoscope. Almost as soon as the journey had begun, it ended, the world slowly moving back into focus. When normality reasserted itself she found herself held in Clark's arms, surrounded by a cornfield, staring up once again into two concerned blue eyes.  
  
She was alive.  
  
So was Clark.  
  
Nearly getting killed was a really bad habit, maybe they had rehab centers for it.  
  
She had too many questions and all of them were fighting inside her head and begging to be asked. Taking a deep breath she pushed them aside, reached her arms around Clark's neck and simply held him. From somewhere far off the sound of sobbing found her ears. It took a while before Chloe realized it was her, crying softly and quietly into the neck of his jacket. Slowly he lowered her legs to the ground, but he didn't try to break the embrace. His arms slipped around her waste and she felt herself pulled tight against him.  
  
They stayed that way for several moments before she finally noticed that Clark was saying her name. "Chloe? Chloe are you ok?" He sounded worried, really worried. She nodded before remembering that he couldn't see it.  
  
Words, she could do words. You simply inhaled air, opened your mouth like so and then exhaled…  
  
A muffled whimper issued from some where in the vicinity of Clark's collar and she felt disgust with herself. One of his hands had reached up to slowly begin stroking her hair and then he was calling her name again. Now he sounded terrified.  
  
Once again, she was a journalist and, damn it, she knew how to talk. Chloe breathed deeply several times before trying again to force her voice into coherency.  
  
"I'm ok."  
  
There, it wasn't so hard after all. Good for her. Chloe gets the 'not a mute' award.  
  
Stepping back a little, but keeping a loose grip on him because she just couldn't stand the idea of letting go, she leaned back until she could make out all of his features. He looked extremely relieved and she got the distinct impression that he'd thought that he broke her. She was about to try and say something else, anything, when all of the sudden he turned his head in the direction of Smallville. She turned to look as well, but there was nothing but fields surrounded by more fields with even more beyond that. "It's coming Chloe, following."  
  
The pronouncement held the same finality as a death sentence and she took several more deep breaths. Was that how someone reached a state of hyperventilation? One deep breath at a time…?  
  
"Do you trust me?" He was looking at her as if he was afraid something had changed. The fear in his eyes said that he thought a single revelation might be able to wipe out every smile, every goofy moment, every link that had been built between them over the years since they first met.  
  
Typical Clark.  
  
"Don't be silly." She smiled, trying to tell him without words that everything was going to be ok. All things considered she hoped he believed her because if they really were being followed, she didn't want to be there when the creature arrived. There were two black eyes that she never, ever, ever, wanted to see again as long as she lived.  
  
"Hold on."  
  
Chloe closed her eyes as he leaned forward, waiting for him to do whatever he was about to do. Her legs were once again lifted from the ground, which was good because they'd been a bit too shaky to be considered entirely functional, and his arms held her tightly against his chest, which was also good for entirely different reasons. She snuggled into the crook of his neck and wrapped her arms around him, waiting.  
  
Waiting for… what?  
  
She opened her eyes and took the briefest of peeks before closing them again, the accelerating blur of the cornfields having caused a queasy sensation in her stomach. Of course, waiting for Clark to remind her that he must be a long lost sibling of Speedy Gonzalez, now she remembered.  
  
  
  
  
  
The back door at Lex's mansion opened with a single sharp twist of Clark's wrist, permanently destroying the lock and allowing them entrance to the interior.  
  
"Wow." Chloe sounded impressed, normally he would have hid something like that but…  
  
But it didn't matter anymore. She knew.  
  
"That's how you got us in to see the body at animal control, isn't it?"  
  
"Sort of." He moved aside to let Chloe into the building, taking the time for one last searching gaze out into the night before he followed.  
  
The room lit up when Chloe flicked a switch on the wall. The interior, like the majority of the Luthor mansion, was filled primarily with warm hard woods and a bright white ceiling. The few pieces of furniture in the sparsely populated entranceway, two tables, a mirror, a bookshelf, were ornately carved antiques.  
  
"Clark, we need to turn on all the lights." Chloe looked mostly recovered from the ordeal and ready to get down to the very serious business of survival.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Do you remember the lamps?"  
  
"He broke the ones near your car."  
  
She nodded. "Maybe he did that for more than just scare tactics."  
  
Clark remembered the thing, moving as if it was a part of the darkness, its black eyes filled with the same shadows that it used like a cloak. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't imagine that face revealed in the dimmest of lights. "What if he needed the darkness for some reason… he almost looked like he was part of it."  
  
"Exactly, did you see how he just appeared like that? One second we were alone and in the next he just… broke away like he was… " She shook her head, unable to finish.  
  
Chloe moved to head up the stairs and he frowned. They shouldn't separate; it wouldn't be safe. "Chloe, where are you going?"  
  
"Upstairs, to turn on more lights."  
  
"Wait." Clark took one of her hands in his own. "Lets just stay together, ok? Isn't that what always happens in those Halloween movies of Pete's? The two teenagers split up…"  
  
"And someone comes along and cuts the girl into pieces." She squeezed his hand in acknowledgement.  
  
Together, they proceeded upwards.  
  
Several minutes later they felt much safer, and the house was consuming more electricity than some small communities. Clark stared out the window while several feet away, Chloe talked to her father on the phone in Lex's office.  
  
"No dad, I'm fine it was just… I'm not alone, Clark is here and we're perfectly safe. No we didn't, well yes I guess we did break in but Clark is Lex's favorite person, he won't mind. No! Don't come to get me." Clark could hear the frustration in her voice. They'd agreed that if they were being followed, the last thing either of them wanted to do was lead it back to other people. "Just trust me, please, I promise that I'll explain everything tomorrow. Ok, yes, I love you too."  
  
Relief. He must have agreed to stay home.  
  
"Dad this is Clark we're talking about, remember? Yes, exactly. I'll tell you tomorrow. Bye." The receiver clicked and she stepped back from the phone and looked out the window. "We could always keep running."  
  
"No, I think you're right. It won't come after us as long as we stay inside." It wasn't so much a statement of logic, as it was a statement of instinct.  
  
"Why here?" She turned to look at him, arms wrapped around herself.  
  
She looked cold.  
  
"Lex is in Metropolis this week, his new staff lives in town." Clark shrugged. "I knew there wouldn't be anybody here."  
  
"Makes sense."  
  
Awkward silence filled the air and Clark simply waited. He knew that sooner or later the questions would come but he hadn't yet figured out how to answer them.  
  
"I'm tired." Was she pouting? Her lower lip was protruding ever so slightly as if to say 'pity me'.  
  
"Then we'll sleep."  
  
"There's no way you're leaving me alone in one of those guest rooms."  
  
The thought had never occurred to him. Taking her hand he led her out into the hall. Clark wondered briefly if there were any horror movies set in mansions.  
  
Probably  
  
The guestroom was easily three times the size of Clark's bedroom at home and the bed, an ornate wooden canopy structure, maintained a similar ratio where it sat in the middle of one wall, enveloped in thick dark blue covers. A bedside table sat on either side of it and a reading area took up one of the far corners of the room. Everything was clean and fresh in a way that suggested it was kept constantly ready for visitors. Clark couldn't imagine why, he doubted Lex had very many, certainly not enough to fill even a fraction of the mansion.  
  
Letting go of Chloe he took the chairs from the reading area and propped them against the closed door. She looked confused at the action, it obviously wouldn't stop a person much less what was chasing them. He simply smiled. "Noise. I don't want to let it sneak up on us."  
  
Without any further discussion they collapsed on opposite sides of the bed, taking the time to drop their jackets on the floor their only concession to comfort. Neither of them even considered taking off their shoes. Lying on top of the soft covers, looking up at the blue canopy, Clark wondered how he was ever going to fall asleep.  
  
He could still see it, one moment the thing had been staring at him, the next it had been flowing towards her and if he'd taken even the smallest fraction of an instant before reacting…  
  
"Clark?"  
  
But he hadn't.  
  
"Yah?"  
  
"You have allot of explaining to do."  
  
He wondered if she'd want to see the spaceship.  
  
"I know."  
  
"Tomorrow." He heard her start moving around on the other side of the bed, shifting as if she couldn't get comfortable. Then a hand was pulling at his arm, lifting it out and away from his body. Chloe pressed herself against his side, laying her head on his chest as if it were a pillow. Moving his other arm, the one she wasn't lying on, Clark took hold of the hand that she'd spread on top of his shoulder and laced his fingers between hers.  
  
Closing his eyes he briefly resisted the urge to bury his face in her hair before realizing that, really, there was no reason not to. A murmur of approval issued from her throat and he inhaled deeply through his nose.  
  
She still smelled like raspberries. Maybe he'd be able to sleep after all. 


	14. Chapter 6

Notes : Thanks to everyone who sent me feedback : ) Laura, Kesha, Shar, and Markers.  
  
To quote Kesha… more please : )  
  
  
  
  
  
Shadows : Chapter 6  
  
Her pillow was moving. It wasn't an unpleasant sensation, in fact it was kind of nice in the way the rocking of a boat could be nice but, still, it wasn't typical. Neither was the fact that her pillow was heated, also nice but also atypical. Nothing about the morning seemed normal from the shoes and dress she'd fallen asleep in to the finger that was softly making patterns on the back of her hand.  
  
"Clark?" Her voice was dry and raspy for some reason, not a good start.  
  
"Morning."  
  
All the questions she'd buried started pounding on the inside of her head, this time they'd brought sledgehammers with them and she found herself reliving events from the night before. Clark snapping the lock on the door like it was a toothpick. Clark a blur as he raced towards her.  
  
Clark not dying when he was supposed to die. After that one she had to take a calming breath.  
  
"So, do you think Lex would mind if we raided his kitchen?" Liquid, she needed something liquid before her throat gave out on her. Some aspirin wouldn't go amiss either, why did she have such a horrible headache?  
  
"After I tell him that I broke his door, and slept with Chloe Sullivan in one of his beds, I don't think he'll even hear me when I mention his kitchen." Chloe poked Clark in the stomach, such comments deserved punishment. "Owe!"  
  
"You will first mention horrible danger, then you will carefully point out that not only was there full clothing but that shoes were present." On second thought, Lex might just consider that kinky. Scary thought. "That didn't actually hurt did it?"  
  
Resignedly giving up her pillow Chloe propped herself up on an elbow. Clark was looking at her with amusement. He'd been teasing. He looked happy. She really wanted to kiss him. The last thought was absurd of course, when she finally convinced him to kiss her morning breath was in no way going to enter the picture.  
  
"No. But if it makes you feel better it sort of tickled." Chloe briefly considered poking him again but decided that she was, in fact, enjoying herself. How could she not be? Almost her entire 'to do with Clark' list had now been made redundant. Only one thing left and one item was not a list, it was a goal. Deciding to compromise on her earlier decision she leaned forward and gently brushed her lips against the corner of his mouth.  
  
The contact lasted for only the briefest of moments and when she pulled back Clark was practically staring at her lips. His tongue reached out to lick his own and Chloe suddenly realized it was time to get out of there before she swooned. "You get some coffee started, and I'll meet you downstairs."  
  
When she left the room in search of the nearest bathroom Clark was still spread out on the bed, completely flushed, and obviously in search of a coherent thought.  
  
Chloe kind of liked him that way.  
  
  
  
  
  
A cup of coffee, some orange juice, and several Tylenol later and Chloe had found her voice again. According to her watch it was only six in the morning, an hour where she normally would have still been deep in slumber.  
  
Putting down her coffee she faced Clark, who looked far too awake for her tastes, and prepared to find the truth. "So, are we going to do this the easy way, or do we need to play twenty questions?"  
  
"There's an easy way?" Twenty questions it was then. But where to start…  
  
"Ok. Here goes. This is from the Meteor rocks, right?" There was no other explanation. They'd seen weird things from the meteor rocks before so it made perfect sense…  
  
"No. It's not." …or not. That was unexpected.  
  
It also left her at square one. "If you're not a benign version of the meteor freaks syndrome, then what are you?"  
  
For some reason he seemed to find that funny. "I'm the 'original' meteor freak."  
  
Still not helpful. "Meaning?"  
  
Clark finally seemed to get his thoughts in order. "When the meteors came down, they were hiding something. A ship."  
  
A ship…  
  
"A spaceship?"  
  
He nodded. "A spaceship."  
  
A spaceship… he was telling her that he was what, an alien? She, Chloe Sullivan, was making first contact. It was going to pretty much be all down hill from there. "Ok… so, assuming that you're an alien, who by some freak of the universe looks exactly like every human on the planet that you just happened to end up on… no coincidences there… assuming all that, this explains your…"  
  
"My very good impression of the road runner?"  
  
Smart ass. Then again she'd been comparing him to Speedy Gonzalez so she shouldn't criticize. "What about the lock…?"  
  
"Do you want a list?"  
  
Did she? Yes, in fact a list was definitely called for. "I'm all ears."  
  
He took a deep breath. "I'm fast, I can lift a truck without getting winded, I can stick my hand in a wood grinder and it's the wood grinder, not my hand, that's going to break and if I really work at it I can see through walls."  
  
The last got her attention. "Just walls?"  
  
"No, pretty much anything."  
  
Chloe's eyes widened and she looked down at her dress, compared to a wall it probably wouldn't be much of a barrier. When she looked back up Clark's face had turned completely red in a good approximation of an apple  
  
"Chloe, give me some credit." And she did. It was still a disturbing thought.  
  
"My god, you're a real live super hero." It explained everything. She suddenly felt silly for ever thinking he'd need 'her' to pull 'his' ass out of a fire. He could probably sit quite comfortably in a fire and use it to warm his backside. He seemed to find her suggestion comical.  
  
"I'm not a super hero."  
  
"Clark have you ever read a comic book? You make most of those fictional heroes look like wimps. All you're missing is a costume and a really cool invisible jet." She briefly tried to picture Clark dressed up and wearing a mask. Weren't most of those costumes drawn as tights?  
  
Clark in tights. Ridiculous on one hand but on the other…  
  
It was Chloe's turn to blush.  
  
"Invisible jet?" Maybe she shouldn't have mentioned the jet. She'd once seen a comic book that featured an invisible jet and for some reason it had struck her as just the neatest idea.  
  
"What, you wouldn't want an invisible jet?"  
  
He grinned. "I like to keep my feet firmly on the ground thank you."  
  
"You're no fun. Hold on, you said you were in a space ship. A real honest to god space ship. What happened to it?" For some reason he was staring at his coffee as if it had become the most fascinating object in the entire world. "What?"  
  
Clark mumbled something incomprehensible.  
  
"What?"  
  
"It's in our storm cellar."  
  
Oh, of course, where else would you keep a spaceship?  
  
"How did you fit a spaceship in a cellar it would have to be…"  
  
"I didn't say it was a big spaceship. My parents found me, they were there when it crashed."  
  
"Thus the weirdness with the adoption agency. And that's why you were so freaked out when I started looking into your background." Piece by piece the person that was Clark Kent slowly began to make sense in a distinctly nonsensical manner. "Ok, one more question before I silently and completely, flip out. Why didn't you ever tell me? Or Pete…"  
  
"Or Lana or Lex or Whitney or my second grade teacher or…" Put that way it did kind of make sense. "When Mom and Dad raised me they knew I was different than the other kids. They didn't care but they always figured it would be safest if, well, no one knew. It's allot easier to tell no one than to pick and chose, trying to figure who you can trust and who you can't."  
  
"Clark. You know you can trust me, right? I won't tell anyone." And she wouldn't. It was a little piece of Clark Kent she got to keep all to herself, why would she want to share it? Clark simply smiled in reply.  
  
"I'll call dad and get him to come pick us up. Unless you want to see my road runner impression again…"  
  
"No, that's all right. Really. Let's save it for special occasions. Impending death, that kind of thing. Of course there's still one thing we don't know."  
  
"Who our friend was last night?"  
  
"That's the one."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
When lunchtime rolled round Chloe was in the Torch offices, sans Clark, once again doing research. Clark had disappeared to help Lana study and, for a change, it hadn't bothered her. There had been no anxiety at Lana's name and no fear that Clark would open his mouth and express his undying love for her. Chloe wasn't quite sure where the sudden confidence had come from but she wasn't about to question it.  
  
Pete on the other hand…  
  
"You do realize that Clark is in the cafeteria, alone with Lana, and there's no Whitney in sight. You do know this don't you?" He, for whatever reason, was doing his absolute best to get a rise out of her.  
  
"Yes, I am fully aware of Mr. Kent's activities. What I don't understand is why you seem to think I should be concerned."  
  
"It's not so much that I necessarily think you should be, it's the fact that this is the first time in a long time that Clark plus Lana hasn't equated to Chloe chomping at the bit."  
  
Chloe didn't get it and she dutifully expressed herself with suitable eloquence. "Huh?"  
  
"Chloe, weren't you wearing the same dress yesterday?"  
  
Suddenly she clued in to why exactly Pete seemed so pleased with himself. "Um…"  
  
Pete laughed. "Come on, spill, something weird is going on here and when I tried to ask Clark about it he turned into a mute. On the bus this morning I don't think I could have fit a piece of paper between you two. Now don't get me wrong, I thought it was cute, but the most I've ever seen you two do before this morning was hold hands."  
  
He was definitely enjoying this far too much.  
  
Chloe buried her face in her hands. "Pete, are you going to let this go, or are you just going to sit here nagging me until I throw you a bone?"  
  
"Oh I'm definitely staying until I get my bone."  
  
Oh well. If it would shut him up… "We got stuck at Lex's place last night."  
  
"I thought Lex was out of town."  
  
"He is."  
  
"Uh huh, so you spent the night, just you and Clark, at Lex's pad."  
  
She nodded.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Why do you think, so I could have my way with him."  
  
Finally, Pete went silent. Chloe congratulated herself.  
  
It didn't last long. "Really."  
  
She reached over and hit him. "No not really. Would you believe that a big scary monster chased us there?"  
  
"This is Smallville Chloe, why wouldn't I believe a statement like that." Oh, yah.  
  
"Well, good, because that's what happened."  
  
"So you two got chased to the Luthor mansion by… a monster… and then instead of going home ended up staying the night there. We can get into the logic of that later. You each grabbed a guest room and that's it." Chloe squirmed in her chair at the last statement before she could stop herself. Too bad, he probably would have stopped. "No, in the same room?"  
  
"Did I mention it was a scary monster? Pete, nothing happened, we just slept. Neither of us even took off our shoes."  
  
"You, and Clark, alone in bed together for the night; shoes or no shoes that explains everything. My work here is done. Now I'm going to go to my next class where I can spend the next hour teasing Clark until he tells me the rest of it." Pete stood up with a big shit-eating grin on his face.  
  
"You wouldn't" Actually he would and she knew it.  
  
"Before I go, what was this about a monster?"  
  
That particular issue had been a sticking point for her. For once there was no indication that meteor rocks were in anyway involved so she'd had to go to wider sources in search of answers. "Pete, what refuses to go into the light…"  
  
The creature appearing out of the darkness as if it was a part of it…  
  
"…can move really fast…"  
  
… a rolling wave of shadow reached out to take her and Chloe knew it would never give her back…  
  
"…is incredibly strong…"  
  
… its hand pounding into Clark's chest, an impact that would have ripped a normal person to shreds…  
  
"…needs or wants to kill at least once a day…"  
  
… on the first day it had been the bus driver, on the second the bank manager, on the third the FBI agents…  
  
"… and… no, that's too obvious."  
  
Pete didn't seem to think so. "Is this a riddle or something."  
  
Chloe had spent the past twenty minutes checking for an exact match with everything from fairy tale monsters to daemon legends in hopes that what they were dealing with was more than just a one shot occurrence. What she hadn't done is take the items as loose foundations for something that might have been warped on its way into popular mythology. One version getting one fact right, another focusing on a different attribute entirely, and all of them tied together by some of the more significant characteristics.  
  
Nosferatu. Vampire.  
  
"Chloe?"  
  
Turning to her computer she quickly brought up a browser and began working. The two million hits resulting from entering the word 'Vampire' in the Google search engine was daunting. She needed to narrow it down. Legends? Mythology?  
  
"Chloe?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Did I just miss something."  
  
"Umm…"  
  
"That's what I thought. Have fun."  
  
Sure. Vampire Legends and Mythology. That was better. Numerous webpages with names like "Vampires Mythology and Folklore" and "Vampire Fact – vampire research articles" popped immediately to the top. Much better.  
  
She looked up and found Pete still staring at her. "You were serious about the monster part weren't you."  
  
"Completely."  
  
When the end of lunch bell rang Chloe didn't even notice.  
  
  
  
  
  
In the past half-hour Clark had managed to make over a week's worth of equations and formulas understandable. Where he'd developed the ability to make the confusing become simple she didn't know but at that moment Lana felt extremely grateful for the talent. With any luck, and several more lunchtime cramming sessions, she might actually pass her finals after all.  
  
Unfortunately, at some point in the past five minutes, she'd lost him. Not physically misplaced him, but lost his attention. Lana had never really thought about it before but whenever she'd spent time with Clark he'd been completely focussed on her, each of her words was heard and considered, each of her thoughts was taken in and remembered. Now that he was sitting across from her, his mind obviously somewhere else entirely, she realized just how important that had become to her.  
  
She missed it.  
  
"Clark?" He blinked, looking around as if he'd just woken up from a dream. It was an amusing performance and she found herself smiling in response. It was nice, she hadn't had much to smile about lately. "Where were you just now?"  
  
No trace of brooding or pressure was present in his features. The impression that he always carried the weight of the world had somehow been left behind during his excursion and for once he looked completely relaxed and happy. It probably wouldn't last, but it was a good sign. Clark was far too nice to deserve anything other than happiness. "Just remembering."  
  
"Was it a nice memory?"  
  
"Very nice."  
  
"Was Chloe there?" The brief pause was answer enough. "You should go see her."  
  
"What? Lana…"  
  
"No, really Clark. You're a lifesaver. There's no way I could have figured all this out so fast on my own but one more x-squared and my head is going to burst."  
  
Clark looked up at the cafeteria clock before shaking his head. "There's no time, the bell's going to ring soon." Closing his math book he began to pack up his things and Lana started doing the same. "How did you sleep last night?"  
  
"Like a baby." She wondered if he could see the lie in her face. She'd spent several hours at Whitney's place last night and while they were starting to recover, she was still feeling unbearably tense around him. She still cared about him, but everything was different. He wasn't the same person he used to be, and neither was she.  
  
Unfortunately it had taken her far too long to come to terms with that. She'd lost her chance.  
  
But Clark didn't need to hear that. He was happy, so let him be happy. If it was Chloe making him happy then all the better, Lana had always liked Chloe even if they had never really become friends.  
  
"Lana?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Could you do me a favor?"  
  
Remembering the past half-hour and the promise of several more such sessions she figured she owed him several. "Name it."  
  
"When you go to sleep tonight, keep the lights on."  
  
By the time Lana thought to ask why Clark was already on his way out of the cafeteria.  
  
  
  
  
  
Smallville was, well, small. Not in a tiny way, but in the way that caused every part of the town to be within walking distance of every other part of the town if you were sufficiently motivated. Thus Clark and Chloe had set out after school to recover the car they had left stranded near the Talon.  
  
"A vampire?"  
  
"Yes a vampire, nosferatu, nesuferit, vampyre, pick your word he's it. If you start looking at him as a set of individual pieces then pick a trait you'll be able to find it some where in a vampire legend. Now, there are hundreds of different kinds of vampires but the ones we're interested in originated in Eastern Europe. Russia, Bulgaria, Romania… there's a huge amount of inconsistent folklore built up. If you make the assumption that for each of these stories there is one consistent source, one type of creature that people rarely actually saw but feared and as a result built up large amounts of falsities about them over the truths, then allot of things begin to make sense."  
  
It was amazing. If such an old and supernatural legend was based in actual fact then one was forced to re-evaluate every other deep-seated piece of mythology. What if Daemons, Angels, Fairies and Leprechauns had all been based on real live prototypes instead of the simple imaginings of superstitious peoples.  
  
Chloe continued. "Take sunlight, it's the most obvious one. It wasn't until the eighteenth century that anyone ever even suggested you could kill a vampire with sunlight. In the earlier myths though most of them seem to agree that they did most of their killing at night. You wake up in the morning and your live stock is all mutilated or your neighbors are dead."  
  
Clark interjected. "So maybe they simply don't normally function in the daytime? But eventually someone suggested it was because the light would kill them…"  
  
"And everyone found the thought very comforting so it got passed along until all modern myths agree with the convention."  
  
"But from what we saw last night its not just sunlight that scares this thing, it doesn't seem to like any light."  
  
Chloe grinned, feeling rather proud of herself. "Thus explaining the myth that a vampire can't enter your home unless invited. It's not so much that it needs an invitation as that you have to go around and turn all the lights off first or it won't bother with you. Just like everything else it somehow got twisted around and misinterpreted."  
  
"Ok, you've got me convinced. What else is there?"  
  
"Well, there's not much specifically relating to its speed and strength but everything agrees that they're nasty and you wouldn't want to meet one in a dark alley. That was sarcasm by the way. Some of the later interpretations, post Dracula, suggest that a vampire can turn itself into a mist. Some that predate the word 'Vampire' but are commonly agreed to be referring to the same type of creature talk as if it's a spirit instead of something flesh and blood. Its easy enough to see where that came from if people found themselves putting their fists right through them."  
  
"Then," Chloe had to stop and take a deep breath, "there's the whole thing with sleeping in graves. If you were a vampire, without the modern conveniences of huge twentieth century slums and buildings, and you couldn't always or didn't always want to slaughter a family to use their home, where would you sleep during the day? Why not under a big pile of dirt?"  
  
"Aren't vampires supposed to be dead? You're bit by a vampire, you die, you rise again…"  
  
"That one I'm not sure about. It does feature in most of the Slavic derived legends but then again they list a thousand different causes for vampirism from a dead body falling under a man's shadow to being struck by lightning. I even read that the seventh child born of the same sex is destined to become a vampire. I get the impression no one really knew where vampires came from so they just let their imaginations take hold."  
  
"But they all agree that vampires weren't always vampires right? That at some point a vampire is a person."  
  
"Allot of them, not all of them but allot of them. There's also universal agreement on a fixation with blood but I can't figure out when pointy teeth first showed up. The bad fashion sense though, that's purely pop culture."  
  
Having shared the results from a large part of her research, Chloe decided to give Clark a minute to process. Wrapping one of her arms around his while they continued to walk, she waited for him to start asking questions.  
  
"What did you tell Pete?" Not the question she'd been expecting. "Every chance he got during third period he was asking me about our 'love tryst'. He didn't exactly keep his voice down either so don't be surprised if people are looking at us funny tomorrow."  
  
"Love tryst? Oh god. He came in at lunch and wouldn't leave me alone until I told him something."  
  
"And so you told him we engaged in an illicit af…"  
  
"No! I told him the truth," at Clarks sharp look she hit him "minus the superhero portion of course. You, me…"  
  
"Spending the night alone in the Luthor mansion, frightened for our lives…" She briefly considered hitting him again. "Think on the bright side, we'll probably be more popular tomorrow."  
  
More popular?  
  
Oh…  
  
"Oh!" Clark was doing a very good impression of Pete. "Keep it up and you won't get a repeat"  
  
That stopped him in his tracks, and since their arms were entwined she wasn't able to continue more than a step before being forced to stop with him. Obviously Clark's hadn't thought that far ahead yet.  
  
Score one for Chloe.  
  
Several minutes later, as they were nearing the Talon, Clark obviously decided it was time to talk about monsters some more. When she registered what he was saying it was her turn to stop in her tracks. "So how do I kill it?"  
  
She let go of his arm and turned to face him. "What do you mean, how do you kill it?" Was her voice a little loud? That must be her imagination.  
  
"We think we know what it is, so you must have found stuff on how to kill it. What do I need, crosses, holy water and a wooden stake?"  
  
"Clark that thing nearly killed us last night."  
  
"No, it nearly killed you, which is why you'll be safely at home with all the lights turned on while I'm running around trying to stop this thing from killing someone else."  
  
It made sense, he was probably the only person in Smallville that it couldn't tear limb from limb. That said, logic could go take a flying leap off a bridge. "Maybe it couldn't kill you last night, but that doesn't mean it won't get creative. I'm not the only one that it practically hypnotized last night Clark, what's to stop it from…"  
  
"Is that part of the myths?"  
  
Didn't he realize she was in the middle of a tirade? "What hypnosis?"  
  
"Yah."  
  
"Mostly post-Dracula but yes there's some mention of them being able to capture a person's mind with their eyes."  
  
"Don't look at their eyes. Got it."  
  
"Clark are you really so invincible that you're just going to run off and beat up on something that has been around for who knows how long?" Clark looked slightly uncomfortable, he was hiding something. Damn him. "What aren't you telling me."  
  
"I'm not invincible."  
  
Point, Set, Match…  
  
"Just close."  
  
Foul.  
  
"Close?"  
  
"Remember Sean Calvin?"  
  
"What, the guy who asked me out on a date, froze a pool around my foot, and then tried to kill me? Nope, I'd completely forgotten him."  
  
"When I caught up with him later he froze me solid."  
  
Clark's skin and lips cast in shades of blue, his eyes staring blankly at nothing… she pushed the horrifying image from her head. "But, how… You almost died and I never even knew about it?"  
  
"I thawed. Apparently aliens come with efficient heating."  
  
"Damnit Clark." How many times had she almost lost him and not even known about it? "What else?"  
  
"I got sprayed with bullets, it didn't really hurt me but I did bruise." Why had someone shot a gun at Clark? Later… that could wait until later… "And meteor rock makes me completely useless."  
  
"What?"  
  
"If I get too close to the green meteor rocks it makes me sick, I have no idea why but its always been that way. It's the reason that for ages I couldn't get anywhere near Lana, she was always wearing that necklace of hers."  
  
Thank you meteor rock…  
  
At some point Clark had shifted into what she was henceforth going to call 'the superhero mode', she could see it in his eyes. The savior complex was in full swing. He was going to go out and try to stop that thing no matter what she said.  
  
Would she really want it any other way? It was part of what made Clark… Clark. Push the fear down and focus Chloe, he needs your help.  
  
"Fine. I don't think you'll be able to kill it at night. Most of what I found just talks about decapitation and immolation, crosses and holy items as a defense are actually rarely mentioned and all showed up late. If it's weaker in the light, maybe it has to stay solid during the day. They can obviously be killed or they wouldn't be almost completely extinct which means at some point they've got to be vulnerable."  
  
"So if I can't kill it at night I'll just find it and follow it until morning."  
  
"And then what? Throw gas on it and light a match? Use a machete?"  
  
Clark looked a little queasy, "Actually I was thinking about a chainsaw."  
  
Ok, that was truly disgusting. "I've changed my mind, I'm never going to one of Pete's Halloween marathons again. They're starting to bare far too much resemblance to real life and that is 'really' freaking me out."  
  
Eventually they reached her car, safe and sound where they had left it. Soon after she was dropping Clark off at his house. Too soon. He was going to go and risk his life trying to kill a monster they barely understood, and no one would ever even know about it.  
  
After Clark said goodbye, smiled at her as if to tell her that everything would be fine, and left the car, she suddenly remembered that she still had one item from her list that hadn't been completed.  
  
It was cliché, the damsel wishing the hero well as he went off to war, but that didn't matter. Sometimes cliches were cliches for a very good reason. Getting out of the car she ran after him and, when he turned, threw her arms around his neck.  
  
Chloe Sullivan spent the next several minutes losing herself in a kiss.  
  
One last shared breath, one last sensation of lips pressed against lips, and she let go. Turning on slightly shaky legs, not saying a word, Chloe walked back to her car and drove away. It hadn't been a kiss goodbye, Clark was going to be fine.  
  
To prove it, Chloe began making a new list. 


	15. Chapter 7

Notes : Ok.. This chapter isn't going to be for the kiddies. If you're under 17, please close your eyes before reading. Thank you, and I hope you enjoy the show.  
  
"Now this is not gonna be pretty. We're talking violence, strong language, adult content…" -- BTVS  
  
  
  
  
  
Shadows : Chapter 7  
  
After hearing the whole story Clark's parents had expressed far stronger objections than Chloe. Suggestions had ranged from waiting until he and Chloe could do more research all the way to an in depth conversation with Agent Philips. But what could he really tell Agent Philips without opening himself up to uncomfortable scrutiny? And how could he wait while they poured through research materials knowing that people were dying simply because he was too cautious to try and do something? In the end that simple argument had won over his parents resigned support with simple repetition, they were caring people, it was from them that he'd learned the value of life.  
  
Now if I were a vampire where would I be? Not in Smallville.  
  
Unfortunately that kind of thinking wasn't going to get him anywhere.  
  
Smallville suddenly seemed far too big. Clark didn't even let himself think about the numerous farms and homes that extended past the outskirts of town, but instead focussed on Smallville proper. If the vampire decided to range that far afield his cause was already hopeless.  
  
Without anything to guide him Clark headed towards Main Street.  
  
  
  
  
  
Once, a long time ago, Sean had actually liked the night; walking beneath a blanket of stars while a cool summer breeze pulled the heat away had seemed the height of relaxation. Now the darkness outside his window spoke only of danger, of death.  
  
"Sir?" The voice of one of his agents spoke out patiently behind him. By some minor miracle neither the police he'd been forced to allow on the scene nor the teenagers he'd foolishly confided in had talked to the press and no word of the previous day's deaths had been seen or heard in the media. Sean had set up roadblocks around the town and asked for special scrutiny to be made on Metropolis, but when neither of these activities had returned any immediate results he'd decided to wait in Smallville. It was possible that it hadn't left. The bus passengers had not only been told they could leave, but encouraged to do so, and to Mr. Finn's mixed delight and anxiety Sean had taken over the hotel as his base of operations.  
  
"Yes, what is it?"  
  
"I passed along your instructions that people were to sleep in shifts, one up one down." Agent Mayweather was nothing if not efficient. If they failed, if it disappeared and Sean had to start from scratch, he was considering having Mayweather assigned to him. Sean had spent far too much time running around the country on his own and not only did it increase the risk but if anything happened to him there would be no one left in a position to easily replace him.  
  
"Good, thank you. Nothing is going to happen until morning Mayweather so you might as well get some sleep. I'll trade off with you in three hours." Mayweather nodded, but didn't move to leave the room. "Is there something else?"  
  
"I'd like to know what we're dealing with agent Philips." Ah. He'd known Mayweather was going to ask that at some point. That had been Sean's mistake, instead of simply doing as he'd been told he'd allowed his curiosity to take hold. The first step towards perdition.  
  
"Ask me again if we're still alive tomorrow."  
  
Mayweather simply nodded, accepting the fatalistic statement at face value, then headed out into the hall and closed the door behind him.  
  
So where are you Gabriel? Why are you still in Smallville? You know better…  
  
Sean shook his head to wipe the name from his mind. It didn't deserve a name. It was the prey, the target, it was his goal and he would achieve it.  
  
Staring out the window Sean tried to bury the past.  
  
  
  
  
  
Tom was standing silently and alertly in front of the hotel breakers. He'd tried having a conversation with Franklin, the sturdy Asian man assigned the duty with him but for some reason it simply hadn't worked. After numerous flawed attempts to find something the two men had in common they had both mutually conceded defeat. Some people were just not destined to have meaningful conversations with each other.  
  
It was an odd post regardless, there seemed little logic in posting agents in a basement when all the building entrances were guarded above. Two of them were watching the breakers and four more were stationed outside the doors. The only window in the room was typical of basement windows, small and thick. He supposed someone with a sledgehammer might be able to break through it, but the noise would be horrendous and anyone but a child would take five minutes to worm their way through the frame.  
  
Outside the window there was nothing but darkness.  
  
1 It's too bright…  
  
It was too bright inside the hotel. For some insane reason agent Philips had insisted on turning on every single freaking light. The man was paranoid, erratic, how he'd ever gotten so much pull in high places Tom couldn't imagine.  
  
2 It's so bright it's hurting your eyes…  
  
Tom blinked several times, squinting, if he didn't know better he would have sworn that the light bull in the ceiling put out two-hundred watts. It was ridiculous. Maybe if he requested it the agent in charge would let him switch it with something dimmer.  
  
3 They won't care…  
  
They wouldn't, Tom could go blind for all anyone else would care. Nothing mattered except following orders... following orders…  
  
4 Fuck them…hit the breakers…  
  
No… that didn't seem right. He couldn't turn off the breakers. God but it was so damned bright his eyes were about to burst and…  
  
Break the bulb then… what are they gonna do?…It's just a fucking light bulb… break it or your eyes are going to burst and your brain is going to explode and…  
  
Tom closed his eyes to try and shut it out. It was too bright. His eyes felt like they were about to explode. Even through his eyelids and his arm the light somehow penetrated and damn it he was going to go blind if…  
  
The sound of shattering glass reached his ears and suddenly everything went dark. His eyes felt better, everything felt better. He wasn't going to go blind after all.  
  
Not that he wasn't grateful, but Tom found himself wondering why Franklin had broken the light bulb.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The entire room was plunged into complete and utter darkness and the words on his laptop disappeared, leaving a disquieting after image that Sean had to blink away.  
  
Stay calm. It could be a coincidence. A power line could have gone down. It was always possible that the lights were out for that entire section of the city.  
  
Looking out the window he was faced with lights that shone brightly on the far side of the parking lot, taunting him.  
  
Oh shit.  
  
Sean took a second to throw on his flak jacket, despite knowing what a futile gesture it was, before grabbing his gun and turning on his flashlight.  
  
"All units, report."  
  
One by one the all clears came in, first from the unit at the back entrance, then from the guards at the front, then those were followed by reports from the agents that had been stationed at the fire exits.  
  
The team that had been assigned to guard the breakers remained silent.  
  
Stay calm. Get as many of them away alive as you can. You know what's about to happen but don't let any more of them die than you have to.  
  
"Teams one, three, and five form up at the top of the stairs into the basement. Shine your lights down the stairs and shoot anything that comes up without identifying itself first. Everyone else wake your alternates. I want all agents to move across the street in pairs and find shelter in the lit buildings. Move it."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Kelly tried to remember if there'd been any mention of monsters in the dark when she'd signed up for special operations. She'd made the switch in exchange for more excitement, more money, and the chance to play with lots of firepower and so far she had yet to be disappointed. In her first year alone she'd seen three heavy shoot outs with drug ring or paramilitary operations, a bloody shoot out at a warehouse, another bloody shoot out at a warehouse, and another bloody shoot out at a warehouse.  
  
What was it with felons and warehouses?  
  
Of course all the actions had been completely off the books and would have been deemed unjustified if revealed to public scrutiny, but that had yet to bother her. If the American justice system refused to acknowledge crime as the war it was then she could entirely understand why fringe groups in the FBI saw fit to circumvent said system. Kelly had been with the FBI for fifteen years, but only the last five of that had been served in the special operations group.  
  
This, her first situation in so public a place as a hotel, was also the first time they'd lost control. It was the first time where she hadn't been one of the aggressors. Kelly didn't like it.  
  
Rumors had been circulating all day about what exactly they were doing in Smallville Kansas. The odd instructions, the deaths of three heavily armed agents at the hands of a single perpetrator, it was enough to shake the confidence of even such an organized and competent group as the one she was part of. Standing at the top of the steps, staring down into a basement that seemed inadequately lit by the narrow beams of their flashlights, she could almost buy into the suggestions that had been bandied about during the day. Sometimes in jest, and sometimes in veiled uncertainty, the word 'monster' had been ascribed to their target.  
  
Of course it was pure nonsense.  
  
She had her orders and she would follow them. After setting up the hotel as a main base the agents had been split into groups of six, and in the hurried instructions issued over the radio agent Philips had quickly called for eighteen people to move to and defend the basement stairs. It seemed excessive. The stairs were narrow enough that even standing back from the entrance no more than ten of them were safely placed in a position to fire, the other six had been forced to position themselves as a rear guard. Ten beams of light cut through the darkness, it should have been more than enough to illuminate the area but instead it seemed to simply accentuate just how dark everything else really was.  
  
With an entire arsenal pointing down the stairs, anything that so much as glanced up them would find itself riddled with metal; those thoughts were very comforting. Why agent Philips had sounded so certain there was an imminent threat from below Kelly didn't know, and whether he was really as qualified to lead as he tried to act she also didn't know, but it didn't matter. She was under orders, she would follow them, that was what would keep her alive.  
  
The clatter of gunfire breached the silence and only years of discipline prevented her from jumping at the sound. She could see the sparks of ricochet as metal deflected down the staircase heading towards…  
  
Towards nothing.  
  
"Hold your fire." She yelled the words, there was no point in maintaining silence while some unprofessional oaf lost his nerve. She had to yell twice more before he finally stopped, whether because it took him that long to register her words or because he'd emptied his clip she didn't know.  
  
"What the hell were you firing at agent." She growled, trying to relay every ounce of disapproval she could muster.  
  
"I saw something move." The voice sounded tentative and confused, she didn't recognize it. It must not be someone she'd worked with before. Gathering over sixty agents on short notice had resulted in people being pulled from a large variety of completely unrelated assignments. It wasn't ideal but they were professionals, they could all do their jobs.  
  
Or most of them could. "Nothing moved, I haven't taken my eyes off the stairs and nothing moved."  
  
"I swear to god something moved." He sounded shaken, if it weren't for their complete isolation she would have ordered him to leave. As it was she'd simply have to deal with him.  
  
"Did anyone else see something move?" Murmurs of agreement confirmed that indeed, nothing had moved. The man had been jumping at shadows.  
  
One second she was staring down the stares and all of her attention, except for the tiny thoughts planning on submitting a disciplinary report concerning the errant agent, was completely focussed. The next second the air in front of her coalesced into a figure that seemed almost cut directly from the darkness. He was reaching towards her with blinding speed.  
  
For fifteen seconds gunfire echoed through the hotel, a physical manifestation of sound that struck every wall, every door, and every person. Then all went silent.  
  
  
  
  
  
Sean and agent Mayweather burst out of the front doors at a run, moving from the claustrophobic hotel into the more open but no safer parking lot. Turning Sean could see several pairs of agents still proceeding down the main hall in an almost military fashion. Don't route, retreat, that was the paradigm they followed as they watched behind and checked every corner for danger, proceeding at what felt to Sean like a snail's pace. There were some situations in which caution could keep you alive, this was one in which it was going to get them killed.  
  
But Sean couldn't simply abandon them.  
  
Propping one of the double doors open he kneeled down, aiming his flashlight and rifle up the hall despite the probability that it would be nothing more than a futile gesture. Agent Mayweather followed his lead and propped open the other door in a similar manner. Sean briefly considered yelling at the agents but stopped himself and turned on his radio instead. "I said move it. I didn't say crawl, I didn't say walk, I didn't say check every god damn corner for something you can shoot. Now get out of there as fast as you can."  
  
It took several seconds for the agents he was watching to realize that the comments were directed at them. It took several more seconds for them to put aside their natural instinct and act on his insistence. Now that he could take a good look Sean saw that there were eight, not six agents moving down that hall. He could only hope that the rest had already exited the building. Sean would wait for these eight, then he would go, if there was anyone else that hadn't left yet they were probably already dead or dying.  
  
He registered brief yells as the lights of the last two agents clattered to the ground.  
  
The first pair of agents exited the building, sprinting across the parking lot towards the streetlights and the brightly-lit buildings beyond.  
  
Gunfire echoed through the hall for a moment, then another one of the lights fell, this time disappearing all together.  
  
The second pair of agents moved past. There was still one agent coming down the hall, but whoever it was, was probably already dead. Gauging the distance across the parking lot Sean suddenly realized he was dead too. It didn't matter how fast he ran, it would reach the front doors before he could ever hope to make it across the parking lot.  
  
Unless someone slowed the thing down. Making a decision Sean turned to Mayweather and yelled at him to go. Mayweather understood orders, he did what he was told, and Sean had told him to move. Without stopping to ask questions the man set off with speed entirely out of proportion to his size.  
  
Good, Sean had gotten too many people killed already. The thought that Mayweather would survive was a minor salve for his conscience, but it would have to do.  
  
When the last light went out Sean let a bitter smile cross his face. He'd been here before and had spent the rest of his life since trying to forget it. For the briefest moment past and present merged and Sean pulled the trigger, filling the hall with lethal metal.  
  
It would never stop it, but it might slow it down. Every second counted.  
  
  
  
  
  
At the first sound of gunfire Clark stopped to listen. Turning his head to identify the source he set out, headed for the place where everything had begun.  
  
When Clark reached the hotel he found it dark and lifeless. Agent Philips was alone at the front doors, staring into the hotel, firing a gun along the same path in which he was directing a painfully bright ray of light. To Clark's still heightened perceptions each bullet uttered a low pitched thwacking sound as it left the barrel, each casing reverberated endlessly as it fell to the ground.  
  
Staring through the hotel walls he could make out the x-ray image of what looked like a person, its bones and joints connected to make an almost cartoonish figure. But it wasn't a person, it was doing thing no person could do. It was moving almost as fast as the bullets, never in a single place at a single moment but somehow always between them as it flowed from one position to the next. It made no attempts to step aside or avoid the pieces of metal, instead it simply charged through them. The bullets that penetrated its form seemed to simply disappear, neither impacting nor appearing out the other side.  
  
Moving the remaining distance that separated him from agent Philips, Clark abruptly pulled the man's weapon from his grasp. It wasn't doing any good, and Clark needed to block the creature's path. He didn't know how, but he was going to hold the creature at the door long enough for the fleeing agents to escape. Long enough for agent Philips to escape.  
  
Staring at the agent's shocked face Clark briefly considered throwing him to safety, but decided against it. Neither could he carry him, because that would guarantee the death of the other three agents who were still struggling to reach the other side of the street. Without any other option he simply turned and said a single word. "Go."  
  
Through the confusion and amazement surfaced recognition, a basic understanding of what Clark was offering irrespective of circumstances. With a brief nod of thanks the agent turned and left, headed for safety, while Clark waited, watching as darkness rolled towards him.  
  
The shape of the vampire swerved to move around Clark but he moved in turn, it swerved again and again Clark interposed himself between it and its quarry. In a blur the actions accumulated until two lines, one the swirl of a blue jacket mixed with the pale color of flesh, the other an absence of color where light was expelled as unwanted, formed a border between two conflicting forces.  
  
Just as quickly both lines contracted until they were once again singular points.  
  
Clark forced himself to keep his eyes low, refusing to look back into the depths from which he knew it was considering him. Staring at the crack of dried lips and the teeth behind them he noticed that its mouth seemed no different than any other mouth he'd ever seen. For some reason that made things worse, that the creature would have any part not warped and twisted by its nature was almost an affront to some internal sense of right and wrong.  
  
Clark hadn't known how to stop it, the simple act of physically blocking its progress had been a move born of desperation. In the back of his mind he'd continually expected it to end the game and pass directly through him.  
  
But it hadn't, there were limits to what it could do.  
  
"You're starting to piss me off." The words called forth images of slithering maggots and dying screams but Clark just pushed them away to focus on the meaning.  
  
He was pissing it off. Good, that meant he was doing something right.  
  
It grinned at him then, pleased with itself for no apparent reason. After contemplating Clark for a moment it began to talk in an almost conversational tone.  
  
"How's your bitch doing?"  
  
Chloe… it was talking about Chloe. Clark wanted to pound the grin off its face.  
  
"I was going to rip her head off you know… rip it off and leave it as a present." Images assailed him, disgusting horrible images that made him want to throw up and cry all at the same time. Every word brought with it thoughts and meaning and feelings completely alien. "You sure you wouldn't like her better that way? One piece for this, one for that…"  
  
Clark swung his fist and it danced back a step, laughing at him. For a moment he almost forgot himself and looked into its eyes, but only for a moment. Morning, he just had to pace it until morning. Then they'd see who was laughing.  
  
"But that was last night. When I found her tonight I decided to give her something special."  
  
Meaning fell behind the words. Chloe was safe. She'd kissed him and then she'd gone home and there was no way it had any idea where to find her and…  
  
And it had been hours since the sun went down.  
  
The creature's lips sneered at him and he suddenly wondered how he could ever have compared them to those of a person. It was lying, it was made of lies.  
  
"You wouldn't know where to find her." For some reason it found that absolutely hysterical. It fell back against the wall and almost choked from its cackling. Barely visible within the wall's shadows it rolled back and forth with complete and utter glee.  
  
He just had to follow it until morning.  
  
"You should have checked the trunk." The vampire's figure curled up in the trunk of Chloe's car, calmly waiting for her to return and drive it back to her home…  
  
She would have had the lights on, it couldn't get to her if she had the lights on… The darkness of the hotel called out the lie and laid it bare before him.  
  
Clark's fist demolished a chunk of the wall, opening a hole into the entranceway beyond. By the time he struck towards the vampire it had somehow moved behind him, still laughing, still taunting. It talked to him about how it had made her watch while it slowly bled her parents dry, how it had carefully pulled her apart piece by piece, first the fingers, then the toes… never letting her die, never letting her pass out as it tasted her whimpers and screams and fear and hate and agony.  
  
Every word and detail brought a memory, every mention of what it had done emerged in Clark's mind as if he had done it himself. Blood covered his hands and he could hear her pleading filling his ears, begging him to let her live even as he…  
  
It told him about how she had cried out his name before it finally ripped out the throat from what was left.  
  
Turning Clark threw himself at the creature, not caring if he could touch it, simply needing to strike out…  
  
But there was nothing to strike out at. In the fraction of a second before Clark had turned the vampire had disappeared, somehow vanishing into the night without a trace.  
  
Chloe. 


	16. Chapter 8a

Notes :  
  
In response to your question Kesha : Ok, I'm not sure how long this is going to end up but I'm guessing roughly another 5 or 6 chapters not including the second half of chapter 8. That's very rough by the way. As an example, originally chapters 8 and 9 were both going to fit as a single chapter, but in the end I felt I needed more room so it's quite possible things will stretch out longer. After I'm done the entire story I'll probably go back and do a revision of the whole thing, assuming I can find the energy as that will be allot of work. If, after I've completed the revision, you still want to repost it, you'll be more than welcome to. Just get in touch with me via email after I'm done :).  
  
In response to Sarah : I didn't want to go anywhere near Lex, not because I don't like the character (I do like the character) but because he brings an entire plot line with him that would be hard to ignore. The foundation and corruption of the relationship between Clark and Lex is almost the entire foundation upon which Smallville rests, and by far its strongest aspect, and the story I wanted to tell is outside that. So to avoid potential baggage, I just wrote him out entirely.  
  
It's great to hear that people are still reading and enjoying : ) Hope this next part continues to appeal.  
  
Thanks.  
  
  
  
  
  
Shadows : Chapter 8a  
  
  
  
Chloe woke to a crashing sound as if the front door had been literally smashed in. Feet pounded up the stairs followed by yelling, the shocked sound of her father's voice raised in protest. On the first thundering impact against her door Chloe pushed herself against the back of her bed, pulling the covers around herself in a futile but instinctive attempt to hide.  
  
It wasn't even locked.  
  
The door collapsed inward and she found herself facing Clark's wild eyes as he stared at her, his hair in complete disarray, and his right hand covered in gray powder. He just stood there looking at her while his chest rose and fell as if he couldn't remember how to breath. He was looking right at her but for some reason he wasn't seeing her.  
  
"Clark?"  
  
Fear, confusion, disbelief, all flashed in sequence across his features before he collapsed in the corner of the room.  
  
"Chloe, what the hell…" Her father sounded angry but it didn't matter. Something had happened, something horrible. It wasn't Clark in her room it was a vestige of him, as if the rest had been beaten until it ran as far away as it could, until it found a place to hide. Throwing herself out of bed she dropped to the floor beside him. Chloe tried to pull Clark towards her but it was like wrestling with a piece of stone.  
  
"Clark, you're ok. Everything is ok." Chloe leaned forward, willing him to see her. "Clark."  
  
"Chloe?" His voice broke. For a moment she thought he'd heard her but then she realized he was somewhere else entirely. His eyes were dilated, jumping around the room as he focussed on things that only he could see. His fist flew downwards, ripping apart the carpet and embedding itself in the wooden floor beneath.  
  
"Chloe?" It was the voice of her father again, concerned, confused, and asking her what he should do.  
  
"Call his parents dad. Just call his parents." He watched Clark for a moment, eyes drawn to the spot where his hand had crashed through the floor.  
  
"Dad, please…" He nodded reluctantly before going, obviously reticent to leave his daughter alone with a madman but that didn't matter as long as he made the call and…  
  
What did it do to you Clark?  
  
How did you help a person who had completely and utterly lost their grip on reality? Why here, why had he barged into her home, into her bedroom, what had he expected to find? Staring into his terrified gaze she realized that whatever it was, that's exactly what he'd found.  
  
"Clark, I'm here. It's me, Chloe." Nothing, he was starting to quiet down but not in a good way. Even as she watched she could see the fight draining out of him as he let whatever world he'd fallen into take him apart piece by piece.  
  
"Clark, you're ok." She felt tears surface at the feeling of helplessness but she blinked them dry. Later, she'd cry later.  
  
Her room… he'd come to her room.  
  
"Clark, I'm ok." She didn't know why she said it but it was like finding the key to a lock. For the briefest second he saw her, really saw her, looked straight at her and knew what he was seeing. She repeated the phrase, turning the key, trying to make him understand.  
  
Something inside him snapped and all at once he went completely limp.  
  
God Clark please be ok…  
  
Gently Chloe pulled at him again, this time finding no resistance as she tried to draw him against her like a child. She brushed her fingers through his hair, moving it out of the way before leaning down to touch her lips to his forehead. Whispering assurances to him she gently stroked her hand along his face. Reassuring him, calming him, trying to bring him back.  
  
When her father returned he found Clark Kent lying unconscious, asleep in his daughters arms, while she held him and cried quietly.  
  
"Chloe, what happened?"  
  
She just shook her head, she couldn't tell him without sharing a secret that wasn't hers to share. But even if she couldn't say it, she knew exactly what had happened.  
  
She'd been right. It had gotten creative.  
  
  
  
  
  
Kiang Shi, Succubi… Succubi? She'd thought those were daemons.  
  
The vast array of descriptions that could be brought together under the label of Vampire was daunting. At the essence of most types was a need to feed off of people in some manner and an association with death but some of the gypsy brand vampires were apparently considered fully functional members of society.  
  
"Chloe?"  
  
"Pete." Her previous assessment of the creature had been based off of the assumption that all these legends and the vast array of compiled folklore held superstitious falsities grown through centuries of exaggeration. Assumptions were dangerous, even when they led to the right answer they needed to be questioned and reevaluated.  
  
"Are you all right?"  
  
"I'm fine." That was the third, no, fourth time she'd been asked that question that morning and Chloe couldn't figure out why everyone seemed to think something was wrong with her. Clothes in order? Check. Hair in place? Check. Eyes dry and focussed? Check. Voice steady? Not only solid but also full of journalistic confidence. "Did you want something Pete?"  
  
He had his eyebrows raised. What had she done to deserve raised eyebrows? "I was wondering if you could tell me where Chloe Sullivan is. Last I heard she was headed here but," Pete made an exaggerated show of looking around the office, "I don't see any sign of her."  
  
"Sure." If she ever tried to write an article on what she'd seen what kind of reaction would she get? Disbelief, accusations of insanity, in short she'd be labeled a kook and ignored. That was exactly what she'd tried to do to the majority of vampire references, label them kooks and forget about them to focus on the equally kooky but more immediately applicable Slavic origin vampires. But didn't giving any credence to the Slavic legends require that she give equal consideration to all of them?  
  
Suddenly the monitor she'd been staring at turned black. What the hell? Reaching forward to the power button she found the way obstructed by Pete's hand. When had that gotten there?  
  
"Pete, I'm kind of busy right now?"  
  
"Sure you are, looking up vampires. Are you writing an article on them?"  
  
"No but…"  
  
"Are you doing a school assignment on them?"  
  
"No but… yah, actually that's it. My history teacher has a supernatural fixation. Now if you don't mind." She tried to push his hand out of the way so she could turn the monitor back on. She'd been looking at an interesting article on the migration of vampire stories across the European continent and needed to take some notes on...  
  
"Liar"  
  
"Ok, I give up. I'm all ears Pete." Chloe crossed her arms and relaxed in the chair, silently willing him to go away and let her work.  
  
"What is with you?" He sounded almost accusing. What right did he have to be annoyed with her?  
  
"Nothing is 'with' me Pete. Not PMS, not luck, not even the Schwartz. Now I'd really love to continue this engrossing conversation at a completely distinct and unrelated time to this one. Which means you should leave and let me get some work done because I'm not about to have the same conversation twice." That didn't make much sense. Whatever. He finally let her push his hand out of the way and turn her monitor back on. There was the article, right where she'd left it.  
  
"Yah, all right." He had that soft little boy tone to his voice as if she'd hurt his feelings. Oh well, sometimes people get hurt. It was a long article, maybe she'd just print it and a couple more out to read next period. "Where's Clark today?"  
  
"He's sick." Yes, there we go. Here's another good one. How had she managed to open up so many browser windows all at the same time?  
  
"Really."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Clark is sick."  
  
When did Pete lose his hearing? "Yes."  
  
"Clark doesn't get sick."  
  
"Everyone gets sick." Shut down these, send these to the printer and book mark these pages because she'd have to check them over later.  
  
"No, I've known Clark since the beginning of time and he has never been away from school sick. I don't think he even got the chicken pocks and everyone gets the chicken pox."  
  
Clark didn't get sick? That made sense. What was a little germ going to do to an alien that could put its fist through a floor?  
  
Why was her eye wet? Rubbing the moisture away she focussed on cleaning up the mess she'd made of her desktop. She'd opened more links than she could possibly keep track of, it seemed such a stupid way to do research. Now that was interesting, a section about a type of female vampire that could actually bare children. It had nothing what so ever to do with the Slavic legends but…  
  
Where do vampires come from?  
  
Right in the same culture was a vampire that ate children. How did those people sleep at night?  
  
"You did hear about last night's massacre, right?" Chloe frowned, she had no idea what he was talking about. "They pulled twenty dead bodies out of a hotel in Smallville central this morning. It happens to be the same hotel that you and Clark were investigating because he found a bloodstain. What makes this even weirder is that a whole pile of federal agents tried to cover it up but there was too much of a mess for them to pull it off. That's not even the most interesting thing though, no the most interesting thing is that everyone in the school is gabbing about it, that its all over the news papers and the radio, and that you've been so busy walking around like a zombie all morning that you don't even have a clue!"  
  
Someone knocked on the door. "Hi, I seem to be chalk full of bad timing lately. Clark was supposed to meet me at lunch but he never showed up. I was wondering if you know where he is."  
  
"Oh, he's sick." Pete infused the statement with an entirely inordinate amount of sarcasm.  
  
"Really? Nothing serious I hope." Somehow Lana managed to fill the simple statement with every ounce of concern and understanding that only a voice like hers could manage.  
  
"See that's really part of the debate in progress."  
  
Why was he looking at her? If he wanted to grill someone he could call Clark's parents for all she cared but there was no reason to put her through an interrogation.  
  
Now Lana was looking at Chloe too, like something was wrong with her. She was perfectly fine, she'd be perfectly fine if they'd just go away and let her do her work. "Chloe, are you ok?"  
  
"God, he won't wake up. Ok you guys? He won't wake up." Her eyes were wet again. How many times had she cried that week? Once after the vampire tried to kill her, once last night, again now. She was becoming a regular sieve and it was starting to become degrading.  
  
She shouldn't have said anything. She'd made the decision last night not to say anything about it because she couldn't explain it. He trusted her to keep her mouth shut. Pete was just standing there shocked and it was Lana who reacted. She got down in front of Chloe's chair for some reason and put her hands on Chloe's arms. "Chloe, what do you mean he won't wake up."  
  
He'd fallen asleep in her arms after she calmed him down and he'd seemed so peaceful and she'd been sure everything was going to be ok. Then his parents had shown up, and everyone had tried to wake him so they could ask what was wrong. It had been like trying to wake someone from a coma. His parents had said they'd bring him home, his father had been so certain that he must just be exhausted and everything would be fine.  
  
When she called that morning they still hadn't been able to wake him up. They'd promised to call her when he woke up and they still hadn't which meant he was still refusing to wake up.  
  
"He just, he just won't wake up. He showed up at my place last night completely freaked out and then he collapsed and he just won't wake up." Chloe, you have now entered the zone of bottled up emotions. Put a cap on, twist, wait for explosion. Good going girl. Nice one. Now they're going to ask why he's not at a hospital…  
  
"Chloe if they don't know what's wrong why isn't he at a hospital?" It was Pete, calm and collected. Apparently since she and Clark were both out of commission he saw it as his place to take up the role of responsible adult. Lana hadn't said a word but she was obviously wondering the same thing.  
  
And Chloe couldn't answer them. She knew the answer, but she couldn't tell them. Without any idea what to say she just sat there with tears running down her face wondering why the hell no one was giving her a hug. Hugs were traditional when someone was balling their eyes out and except for the stupid traditions and the mean spirited traditions and the traditions based entirely on the humiliation of others she could be as tradition bound as the next person.  
  
Apparently she wasn't the only person aware of tradition. Consolation came from the most unlikeliest of quarters as Lana offered comfort to a girl who'd gone from self confident and plucky to a complete wreck in a matter of days.  
  
"Did Chloe drive today?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Pete, did Chloe drive to school today or did she take the bus."  
  
"She must have driven."  
  
"Then find her keys and go get her car, drive it around to the doors down the hall. I'll meet you outside in a couple of minutes."  
  
"Where are we going?"  
  
"To find out what's wrong with Clark."  
  
Chloe didn't hear Pete make any kind of response, but shortly after she did hear the jingle of keys followed by the sound of the Torch office door closing. Several minutes later they were in Chloe's car, driving to the Kent farm, while Chloe looked out the window trying to figure out how exactly she was going to explain the exodus to Martha and Jonathon Kent. 


	17. Chapter 8b

Shadows : Chapter 8b  
  
Somewhere between school and the Kent farm Chloe Sullivan had regained her composure. Lana missed the transition but, when they arrived, Chloe's eyes were dry and her features calm. It was an impressive performance, but somehow Lana was sure that Chloe was still barely holding it together.  
  
What could have happened to push her over the edge like that? What wasn't Chloe telling them?  
  
When Martha Kent greeted them at the door it was a subdued welcome. Her face was drawn from lack of sleep and she lacked the typical friendly air that had always been present during Lana's previous visits. "Chloe, Lana, Pete? Aren't you supposed to be in school?"  
  
Chloe was looking at the ground almost guiltily and Lana had the brief impression that they weren't supposed to know about Clark. But that didn't make any sense.  
  
"We're here to see Clark, Mrs. Kent."  
  
Martha Kent considered them for a moment and then nodded. She stood back to let them pass and the first thing Lana noticed upon entering was the smell of fresh baked pies. Four hot crusts were cooling on the counter and the bright glare of the oven suggested more were in the process of creation. The kitchen table was covered with accounting papers and notes. From off in the distance Lana could hear the sound of an engine, Jonathon Kent working in the fields. "I'll have to get some of those from you for the Talon."  
  
Martha Kent flushed slightly when she looked at the pies, then smiled before nodding. "You three go on upstairs, I'll be there in a minute."  
  
And they did.  
  
His room was more organized than that of most teenage boys. Whitney's room always had just the slightest taste of disarray with a piece of laundry lying one place or an unfinished homework project lying open on the floor. She'd always assumed it was a genetic male trait that teenage boys equated to difficulty cleaning their rooms. If that was the case then whatever gene was involved had somehow skipped Clark by.  
  
Clark himself was just lying on his bed, looking for all the world as if he was simply deep in peaceful sleep. Disturbingly, he was perfectly positioned flat on his back with his legs and arms both pointing straight towards the foot of the bed. He lacked the chaotic sense of movements normally made to get comfortable both awake and to varying extents within the depths of slumber.  
  
She just stood in the doorway, looking, waiting for Clark to wake up and ask them why they were there. Pete, standing beside her, was having a similar reaction and remained equally still. Upon entering Chloe had moved directly to the bed, sitting down on the very edge before letting one of her hands rest gently on his face.  
  
"See, he won't wake up." Chloe sounded like her heart was about to break.  
  
Pete responded with a forced attempt at humor "Maybe you should try harder."  
  
Lana couldn't understand how he could say something like that. "Pete!"  
  
"What, am I the only person here with the strong desire to yell at him until he opens his eyes?" Suddenly Lana understood that in his own way, Pete was as equally unsettled as she was, maybe more so. Now that she thought about it, Lana realized that even though she'd lived near Clark for years both the other people in the room had been his friends far longer than her.  
  
At some point Clark's mom had come up behind them, silently watching as they mourned their fallen compatriot. "We keep hoping he'll wake up."  
  
"Why isn't he at the hospital?" Lana asked the question that Chloe had seemed for some reason unable to answer.  
  
"They said there was nothing wrong with him. He's not in a coma, he's not in shock, he's just asleep. They said there was no danger of leaving him at home in his own bed so…" So they had taken him to the hospital. She'd known they must have. For some reason Chloe flinched when Mrs. Kent spoke the words. Was it because she'd been there? Had she had to sit and listen as a clinical voice told her there was nothing they could do for him?  
  
"I think we're going to stay for a while Mrs. Kent. If that's all right?" Mrs. Kent smiled, the warm kind of smile that always seemed to grace Lana's dreams when she remembered her long deceased parents.  
  
"I think Clark would like that. Pete, why don't you help me get some chairs?"  
  
Pete nodded and followed her out of the room. They returned with three wooden chairs, one for each of them, but only two ever found use and the last stayed propped against the wall in the corner. Pete and Lana talked quietly, sometimes joking, sometimes serious, and the subject of discussion was almost always Clark. Chloe simply sat on the bed, silently contemplating, eyes never straying.  
  
When finally they left, several hours later, the fallen hero slept on.  
  
  
  
Over the following days life in Smallville continued. There were no more deaths, no more disappearances, and the horde of federal agents that had quickly descended upon Smallville had disappeared with equal haste. They left behind them a single unsolved case involving a missing local woman who would never again be seen or heard from, a disgruntled police force that would for a long time remember government interference as a prelude to obfuscation and violence, and a large check for one Mr. Finn to cover not only the use of his hotel but the massive cleaning and repair bill he'd submitted. The bill was overblown, but in all fairness he was receiving payment not just for damages but for psychological trauma as well. When your carpets are soaked with blood the massive fees to replace a breaker box that had been ripped out of the wall seem irrelevant in comparison.  
  
Lana spent almost every hour she had keeping the Talon running smoothly while flipping through a math book behind the counter. Without Clark to depend on she'd been forced to push aside her grief and focus on schooling. Lana Lang was not a quitter, and when necessity pushed her in the end she dug in and pushed right back. Trying to catch up several weeks worth of math as well as learning the new material was going to be grueling work but she would persevere or die trying. When between Whitney's recovering family, school, and the Talon she still had time left over she'd drop by to see Clark. Lana was always wondering what had sent him away, always pondering how such a noble heart could turn to such stillness, and always questioning what she herself had given up one warm night while the sun dropped below the horizon.  
  
Pete missed his Friday night date. It wasn't until Saturday morning that he even remembered that he'd sweet-talked Lisa Eliss into dinner and for some reason, it didn't really matter. He looked in on Chloe constantly, making sure to his satisfaction that she was well and herself. He also helped her put together the next edition of the Torch, which had quickly fallen behind schedule the previous week and demanded all effort possible to put it together on time and with sufficient polish. Finally, he occasionally stopped by to check in on Clark, the sight of whom he found disquieting. He tried telling him jokes, reading him the lamest books he could find complete with commentary, but in the end nothing helped and when he left Clark was always the same as he had been when Pete arrived, completely silent.  
  
Chloe buried herself in every ounce of work she could find, accumulating in record time enough articles for two separate editions of the Torch. She also did not only her own homework but half of Clark's. She would have done it all but she was fairly sure he wouldn't appreciate it if she touched his Math or Physics, Chloe knew where her talents lay and it was not in that direction. One thing she didn't do was look up a single piece of information that had anything to do with Vampires or any other creature remotely deemed to be of the night. At the end of each day she always found her way drawn back to the Kent farm where Clark slept, their positions freakishly reversed as somehow she was transformed into the knight errant keeping vigil over the sleeping beauty. She read to him just as Pete had, but some might argue with better taste since most of her subject matter came from the globe or her very own beloved Torch. She relayed to him her latest theories about the meteor rocks and hypothesized on just how he might be related to them. She also found herself just reaching out to touch him, wanting to feel the warmth of his skin and the softness of his hair to confirm that her eyes weren't lying and that he hadn't somehow snuck away and left her for good. Sometimes, when she thought his parents had lowered their vigil or when she simply didn't care anymore, she found herself crawling into the bed to once again lay her head on his chest and feel his heart beat. Remembering a terrifying night filled with death and fear Chloe would push the dark images away and instead dwell on an unfamiliar bed, the feel of a finger gently travelling over the back of her hand, and the briefest touch of lips used as morning's greeting.  
  
Martha and Jonathon Kent simply watched, and waited, knowing in their hearts that Clark was special, that no matter how low he had been lain he would get up again. They knew that their son would wake when he was ready and that they'd be there to take care of him when he did. There were no other possible futures, it was as simple as that.  
  
Friday turned into the weekend, the weekend moved into next week, and as the days passed by subject to the inexorable pull of time Clark Kent slept on, oblivious, as his mind floated somewhere between reality and nightmares, hopes and fear, light and shadows. 


	18. Chapter 9

Notes : Wow, a veritable bonanza of reviews : ) Much appreciated everyone. Sorry this part took longer to get out but it took me quite a while to get comfortable with it. Hopefully I hit somewhere near the mark.  
  
UPDATE : It was pointed out to me that I mixed up my fairy tales : ) My punishment for writing at 3 am I guess… anyways. I fixed the error (check the reviews if you want to know the exact error.) Thanks to KT for pointing out the mistake.  
  
UPDATE2: changed the last line of the chapter  
  
Shadows : Chapter 9  
  
It looked warm outside, bright and warm and sunny. With her eyes focussed out the window Chloe couldn't help but wonder why she was sitting in class and listening to a supply teacher drone on in a complete and utter monotone when such a more appealing option was available. It wasn't as if she was learning anything. Chloe was fairly sure the word magnetism had been uttered at some point, either that or electricity, maybe it had been both; otherwise she was completely oblivious to everything that had been said. It wasn't like she hadn't tried listening, she really had, but the teacher was just reciting word for word out of a text book in a voice that made Chloe's mind shut down in a desperate attempt at self defense. She would have been far better off to just read the chapter herself.  
  
It had been six long, depressing, and anxious days since Clark Kent fell asleep in her arms and refused to wake up. Chloe had spent each of those days fighting off self-pity and towards that end she made a resolution every morning that today she wouldn't be sad. The problem was that once you made that kind of a resolution you'd already defeated it; every time she told herself to be happy she was reminded of why she was supposed to be happy and that just ended up making her sad again. It was a vicious nasty cycle. But Chloe had made a resolution and you don't just give up on a resolution. In an attempt to uphold her commitment Chloe searched desperately for a cheerful thought.  
  
"So, what do you think of our supply teacher. Better or worse than the real thing?" A familiar voice whispered behind her.  
  
What did she think? That their school had a bad habit of placing supply teachers in the classes they were least qualified to teach. That a teacher shortage in Smallville led to unprepared temps who were improperly used to the point where they could rarely do more than recite out of a text book and take attendance. She told Pete as much, it wasn't Mrs. Alliston's fault, it was the system.  
  
"So you don't like her lecturing style?"  
  
"Pete, look around, the only thing being learned here is the fine technique of sleeping with your eyes open."  
  
For some reason Pete was grinning at her, she wasn't quite sure why but it was nice to see. "You should write an editorial on this, such conviction shouldn't be left unheard."  
  
The supply glanced in their direction and Chloe forced herself to look attentive. Nothing going on here, no chatting, we're dutifully paying attention to the dronage. Please, continue. After Mrs. Alliston had spent several seconds sending stern vibes in their direction she finally turned away, two much more obvious students on the far side of the room having captured her attention. "What makes you think I didn't. Principal Kwan summarily vetoed it. Apparently trashing the school system in the school newspaper isn't encouraged."  
  
Neither of them mentioned that Principal Kwan was gone.  
  
That wasn't a happy thought. If she had to repeatedly smash herself over the head with them to accomplish it, it was going to be a day for happy thoughts. Coffee was a happy thought. The sun shining outside was a happy thought. Once you got started it wasn't a problem; you just had to get yourself on a roll.  
  
Good work Chloe, strive towards positive thinking. That and some pixie dust will let you fly out the window.  
  
A sudden piercing tone cut through the air, interrupting Mrs. Alliston mid syllable and causing her to glare around the room, looking for a culprit until finally her gaze settled on…  
  
Chloe.  
  
Her phone was ringing. Her cell phone, the one that was strictly forbidden from being active in any of her classes via a unilateral decision on the part of the vice principal. Ever since that night she had taken to carrying the piece of high tech gadgetry with her religiously. When that conviction had encountered the inconvenient stumbling block of school policy the result had been a short and brutal contest that left policy broken and weeping on the ring floor.  
  
Hitting the receive button to stop the ringing she quickly sprinted across to the classroom door. The rest of the students looked curious; the teacher looked disapproving. When Chloe made it out into the hall she finally lifted the phone to her ear.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Chloe, it's Martha. He's awake." He was awake. Clark was awake. No, she'd heard that wrong. It was just one more hallucination where she imagined those exact words followed by a trip to the Kent farm where he'd be sitting up and giving her a big goofy smile and telling her that…  
  
"Chloe? Are you still there?"  
  
"I think so. Um, Mrs. Kent, could you say that again?"  
  
She could almost feel the warmth in the words as they once again issued from the receiver. "He's awake."  
  
Chloe's gut clenched and she had to lean against one of the hall lockers to keep from falling down. It wasn't a daydream, he was really awake and the next time she saw him he'd be animated and alive and… and he'd be Clark. A week's worth of tension suddenly flowed from her muscles and she slowly slid to the floor.  
  
"How is he? I mean is he all right?" Clark Kent had just endured the longest nap in history, which could mean anything. They had no idea what had caused it in the first place; Martha Kent had lied through her teeth when she told Lana they'd brought him to see a doctor.  
  
"He's fine Chloe. He's shaken, but he's fine. Actually he wants to see you. For some reason he thought something might have…"  
  
Clark was alive, awake, and still Clark. The rest of it just didn't seem to matter. "Tell him I'm coming over."  
  
Chloe returned to the class only for the brief time necessary to assemble her books and tell Pete the good news. When she went to leave she couldn't help but notice the disapproving look on the teacher's face and in return she fixed Mrs. Alliston with a big enthusiastic smile, she then shared it with the world at large just for good measure. Apparently her radically uplifted mood had caught the attention of the entire class and the focus of every student suddenly seemed to be on her. The teacher wasn't even reading anymore.  
  
Feeling, that with such a captive audience she was required to say something, Chloe settled on just two words, "He's awake," before disappearing out the door.  
  
  
  
  
  
He looked awake. He looked happy to see her. He also looked from the way he was fidgeting like he really wanted to get out of bed. Chloe had the brief thought that a good alternative might be for her to get into bed but discarded it as perhaps not the most appropriate time. When he had first seen her the relief on his face had been almost palpable and Chloe had decided then and there that in no way was she going to give him any indication of just how much he had scared her.  
  
"Welcome back Snow White." She settled herself on the edge of the bed, close enough to casually touch him without giving the impression that she was preparing to ravish him.  
  
"Snow White?"  
  
"You've been doing a very good impression."  
  
"There wasn't an apple."  
  
Where was his imagination? "Why does it have to be an apple? Can't witches go modern? I'm sure these days they could just slip you some spiked fruit juice or something."  
  
"Well there weren't any dwarves then. And don't tell me that there's a modern substitute for dwarves Chloe, you'll make a lot of very short people very angry with you."  
  
He was going to be fine. She reached forward with her hand, caressing his face just to feel the warmth of his skin as she had every day since he went away. This time he reached up with his own hand to envelop hers and a big goofy smile lit up his face, just like she'd imagined. Clark briefly touched his lips to her palm before lowering their hands, lowering but not letting go.  
  
"I missed you." It needed to be said.  
  
He looked slightly sheepish, though she could tell he was pleased. "What was it you said… something about perennial bad judgement?"  
  
"Don't. No self flagellation allowed."  
  
A distant look crossed his face as he relived some dark memory. Then he asked a question, hesitantly, as if he was almost afraid of the answer. "Do you know if they got away?"  
  
"If who got away?"  
  
"The FBI agents, there were four of them leaving the hotel and I tried to hold it off while they…"  
  
Chloe squeezed his hand. She didn't know which agents he was talking about but she did know about the massacre. He must have been there. "Clark. I'm sorry, it was all over the news. At least twenty people died in that hotel."  
  
She expected to see pain, and guilt, but instead his face just took on the same steal resolve that had gotten him hurt in the first place. "But they were all in the hotel?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Then I saved some of them."  
  
"Clark…" Chloe hedged for a moment, his parents must have already asked but she wanted to hear it from him. "What happened?"  
  
He didn't answer right away, instead he became suddenly unwilling to look at her and she had to restrain herself from pushing. "It just talked to me Chloe, that's all."  
  
She wondered how Clark would react to Mrs. Alliston. "Must have been a boring conversation."  
  
"No, it was vivid. Too vivid." Clark's sense of humor was obviously not present on that particular subject. She couldn't blame him. Should she try to get him to talk about it or was it something better left alone? She needed to know what had driven him to her room, but not if the knowledge had to be at his expense. She was still in the middle of a hot internal debate on the subject when she felt him tugging on her hand.  
  
"You don't look comfortable Chloe."  
  
Odd, she felt reasonably comfortable. "I don't?"  
  
"It's just an observation."  
  
Really? "What do you think I should do about it?"  
  
Clark shifted over in the bed as silent invitation. Come to think of it, maybe she wasn't very comfortable after all.  
  
"You sure your mom won't accuse me of taking advantage?" She was teasing of course; no arm-twisting was required. She pulled her legs up on the bed and began to settle herself beside him. After some slight maneuvering she ended up turned towards him, held tenderly in the crook of one arm, while she snuggled close and purposefully wrapped herself around him.  
  
Clark leaned down to brush his lips across her forehead and she resisted the urge to turn her head and capture them with her own. No ravishment Chloe; remember, he's not well. It would have been easier for her to convince herself if he didn't look so healthy. His eyes were bright, his face was animated, and his skin was warm without being flush. She could almost forget that there'd ever been something wrong.  
  
… Clark pounding on her door until it crashed in, his complete lack of recognition as he stared right through her…  
  
Almost.  
  
Chloe gripped him tighter and closed her eyes. She was exactly where she wanted to be. "Why haven't you gotten out of bed."  
  
"I did, but I think waking up after six days and immediately getting up to go to the bathroom broke some unwritten rule. Mom pretty much threatened to tie me down if I got up again."  
  
"After six days you owe her the requisite mothering and nurturing stage. Have you eaten?"  
  
"Enough food for two days, that was the first thing she made sure of. Chloe, is it just me or does the entire house smell like apple pies?"  
  
"It's just you." In fact the entire house was laced with the smell as Martha Kent had gone on a complete baking rampage for the past week. Fortunately Lana had been more than happy to give her an excuse, taking almost every one off her hands that she could and selling them at the Talon. "So," he still hadn't answered her earlier question. "What did it do to you Clark? You said yourself that you're almost invulnerable, doesn't that make it worth cataloging everything that can hurt you? The rest of us just point to the entire world and say 'dangerous' but…"  
  
But I don't want to see you get hurt again, which means we need to know what can hurt you.  
  
"It's not that easy." Chloe waited for him to organize his thoughts, slowly caressing one hand along the center of his chest as she watched patiently. There was plenty of time. "Do you dream Chloe?"  
  
She smiled. Everyone gets sick Pete…"Everyone dreams Clark."  
  
"Then it was like a dream, except more real. He…" He sounded scared. He didn't want to remember. Reaching up with her hand she angled his head down ever so slightly; Chloe then leaned towards him and brushed her lips first along his cheek, then across his lips. She held him there for a moment, breathing his air, tasting his skin.  
  
"It's ok Clark."  
  
"Chloe, he told me you were dead. And it was so easy to believe. It wasn't just his words, I could see him hiding in your car…" Her car, he meant her trunk. They'd never even thought of checking for bad horror movie cliché number one hundred and three, the evil villain hitching a ride in the trunk. Chloe shivered when she realized there had been nothing stopping it from doing exactly that. "He described it Chloe, every detail, every action and it was like I had done it myself."  
  
She touched her lips to his forehead again, reassuring, reminding him that everything was fine.  
  
"Chloe I can still remember it. I didn't want to believe it but then I ran to your house and it was completely dark and no one was there. I ran up the stairs to your room and when I got there... it was just like he said. Your parents were lying on the floor and you were…"  
  
"I'm fine Clark. I'm ok."  
  
"That's what you said, that you were ok. I heard you but it didn't make sense and…"  
  
It was her fault. She was the one that had sent him away. "I broke you."  
  
"I think… I think that I needed to be broken. It was weird Chloe, like he'd sucked me out of this world and dropped me into another one."  
  
Footsteps could be heard coming down the hall, Martha was returning. Chloe realized just how intimate they looked and pulled her face away. She stayed on the bed though, wrapping herself around him again and bringing her head to rest on his chest, refusing even the idea of letting go. She wasn't embarrassed about what she'd been doing, but she didn't want it to look like they'd been making out either. Martha Kent had had enough shocks for one day.  
  
"Are you two ok?" Clark's mother hadn't appeared so alive in a long time. Her eyes were bright and her cheeks had lost the pale unhealthy complexion that had been constantly building up from stress and lack of sleep.  
  
Clark responded "We're good mom."  
  
"I was just wondering if you wanted anything to eat, or maybe something to drink?" Clark hadn't been exaggerating, Martha Kent was in full motherly mode.  
  
When Clark answered with a brief shake of his head she turned to Chloe, apparently having decided to include her in the treatment while she was there. Chloe hadn't spent much time with his parents before the recent ordeal, but now she'd come to realize from the approving looks and encouraging smiles that they were more than happy to see her and Clark together. It was encouraging. "Something to drink would be nice. Maybe some juice?"  
  
Martha nodded and disappeared, once again leaving them alone.  
  
"You aren't worried about a witch coming along and spiking it?"  
  
"Between here and the kitchen? I'll risk it. You weirded my father right out you know?"  
  
"How did I do that?"  
  
"By breaking down our front door, barging up the stairs without even acknowledging him when he tried to stop you, and then breaking down the door to my bedroom. I don't think putting your hand through the floor helped either. It impressed him, but it didn't help."  
  
"I didn't."  
  
She grinned. "You did."  
  
"I'm surprised he's letting you anywhere near me."  
  
"Well, if it had been anyone else he would have called the police."  
  
The last comment confused him "What would me being me have to do with anything, I barely know your father."  
  
"Clark, my father is very aware that you've saved my life on at least two distinct occasions. Do you have any idea how much currency that earned you?"  
  
"Ah. Did I spend it all?"  
  
"Every dime. Well, you might have a couple of pennies left I guess, I'll have to ask him for a balance when he recovers."  
  
They continued to banter lightly back and forth for the next half-hour. Clark's mom stopped by once or twice and neither of them missed the amused but approving expression she developed every time she looked at their arrangement on the bed. It only lasted that half-hour though, eventually Clark tried to ask the question, the one she had been waiting for and hoping wouldn't come. She answered before he could even complete the sentence.  
  
"It's gone." He'd been starting to ask about the vampire, about what it had been doing. It had pretty soundly kicked his ass and yet he was still ready to go out and face it again.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"It left Clark. It left the same night. No one else has been hurt and no one else has gone missing. The FBI left too, they were gone before the end of the weekend."  
  
"But where did it leave to?"  
  
"Does it matter?" That shocked him. She could tell it shocked him by the way he tensed up beneath her. "Clark there's a whole world out there full of monsters. Maybe not all of them walk around in the dark wearing black trench coats and raping people's minds but they're out there. We're here, not there. I know I joked about you being a super hero but you can't save the whole world."  
  
"I can try and save my little corner of it." He sounded angry and she could feel his entire body tighten. She couldn't blame him, she sounded callous but it had to be said.  
  
"Sure you can, I don't deny that. I'm not saying you should hide in the sand but it isn't 'in' your little corner of the world anymore Clark; it's in someone else's. You have to let it go or you'll be chasing it for the rest of your life." Pushing herself up on one arm she watched him. He was hurting, not for himself but for each of the people that had died at the hotel. He was hurting for the bus driver and the woman from the bank and every person he hadn't been there to save. Most of all he was hurting for all the people it would kill because when he'd come face to face with it, he'd been unable to succeed. Seeing all that pain Chloe found herself hurting right along with him. "I'm sorry." It didn't mean much, but it was all she could say.  
  
"So am I." He hesitated a moment, but then pulled her back to his chest and hugged her tightly against him. They stayed that way for a long time, silent. It took a while, but eventually she felt his muscles loosening beneath her as the stress diminished. Soon after she felt herself floating away, lulled towards sleep by the sensation of being warm, and cared for, and safe. Tomorrow life would return to normal, but for today Chloe would simply let herself drift in his embrace.  
  
Now all she needed was the pixie dust… 


End file.
